Wanted
by ThePurpleSpider
Summary: AU. Naomi's a homicide detective and Emily's a defence attorney. What happens when their worlds collide? A bit of a tired storyline, but do give it a read!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note : So I'm new to writing fanfic but I've been on this site for a loong time and I really love reading all the amazing fics people have written, even though I'm a lousy reviewer. Thought I'd give writing a go though so here's the first chapter, hope you enjoy! **

Naomi Campbell was exhausted. Rubbing futilely at her tired eyes, she let out a cavernous yawn before lobbing a ball of paper at her dozing partner's head. Cook woke with a start, head jerking up off his arms as his eyes blearily searched the room for the source of the paper projectile.

"I don't think Chief Jones will appreciate sifting through case notes covered in your drool," Naomi remarked dryly.

"Fuck off, blondie. I haven't slept in twenty four hours, I've spent the last thirteen stuck at this fucking desk and I've fucking had enough of going through phone records and bank statements and all this other crap for evidence that _isn't there. _I'm telling you, Naomikins, this guy's smart. If we do catch him, it won't be because he bought "Dismemberment for Dummies" with his credit card or something," Cook complained, massaging the back of his neck. "And plus, Cookie so does not _drool._"

Naomi smirked. "Whatever. Save it for when you have to explain to Jones why your report smells like Chinese food."

"Pffft, old Jonesy doesn't even know what day of the week it is. I bet his wife has to tie his shoelaces for him. Double knots," Cook sniggered. "Hey, apparently his son's joining Homicide soon. Guess what his name is? _Jonah Jeremiah Jones_. Poor fucker."

"Yeah well we could do with some more manpower. Honestly why is it always just us two working these ungodly hours? Sure, it's nearly Christmas but the whole of Bristol's in fucking panic mode and all the other detectives just fuck off home at quitting time like normal," Naomi gave her trademark scowl, eyes sweeping around the otherwise deserted bullpen. "Sometimes I wonder why we even bother. No one else seems to give a fuck."

Cook didn't answer, but Naomi got her reply in the way he turned his head to look at four large photos attached to a whiteboard in the middle of the room. Chelsea Wickham's face beamed at them from the first photo, cheeky grin and sparkling green eyes immortalised in a moment of youthful delight that belied the horrific way in which she had died. The other photos were more of the same; two men and another woman, all smiling obliviously at the camera, unaware of the terrible fate awaiting them at the hands of a killer who'd, rather unimaginatively, become known as the Butcher of Bristol.

"Yeah we owe it to them," Naomi said heavily, continuing the unspoken conversation that had just passed between her and Cook. The two of them had been partners since they'd joined the Homicide division of Bristol's police department five years ago. They'd met at the police academy as fresh-faced recruits, both having lost a family member to violent crime in the past and both with their sights set on Homicide. A combination of youthful passion, knowledge of the streets and undeniable sleuthing skills had seen them rise quickly through the ranks and here they were, two of the youngest and brightest detectives on the force, both of them willing without a moment's hesitation to take a bullet for the other. Luckily it had never come to that, since Cook would have bemoaned any occurrence that prevented him from 'shagging some fit bird from sunset til sunrise' at least once a week, and Naomi had a girlfriend who'd no doubt be upset that the blonde had been shot protecting 'that fucking lecherous creep'.

"Coffee, blondie?" Cook asked, breaking the sombre mood with his patented Cook grin firmly back in place. "Fuck knows I need to stretch my legs."

"Ugh, I'll pass. Reckon I've already got about two litres of the stuff running through me right now. Give Sandra my best," she winked at him, knowing that he'd just been making an excuse to give his girlfriend-of-the-week a call. _Phone sex,_ she thought wryly as Cook stumbled out of his chair, cursing at the pins and needles in his legs.

Sighing, Naomi left him to make the call she really wanted nothing to do with and returned to the papers scattered all over her desk. She had to admit that Cook had a point – whatever lead them to the killer was hardly going to be found in grocery shop receipts and tax return records belonging to the few suspects they had. Personally, Naomi didn't think any of their three current suspects had committed the gruesome murders that had left Bristol crippled with fear, but she knew better than to turn away leads based on something as insubstantial as her gut.

Not for the first time since this case had begun, hopeless frustration threatened to overwhelm her as she wondered for the umpteenth time what could drive a man to kill and maim four innocent strangers, always at the full moon, discarding their bodies like trash after he'd finished with them. A piece of skin in the shape of a perfect pentagon had been removed from the left shoulder of each victim – a cruel but bizarre signature flourish, like the murders always occurring at the full moon, which made up this killer's sadistic MO.

Naomi knew it was inevitable that the Butcher would strike again. As the press had been all too happy to point out, the next full moon was in a week's time and Bristol's collective gaze was looking to the Homicide squad for answers they did not have. Since the previous victims had shown signs of being held by their captor for up to a week before their deaths, a fifth victim was probably already in the killer's clutches, _while we sit here going through fucking paperwork_, Naomi thought bitterly.

"Naomi," Cook had returned, a paper cup of the dishwater the vending machine offered as coffee in his hand. _No phone sex then. _Naomi opened her mouth to comment, but stopped at the look on her partner's face. It was the look he got only when he was being dead serious, the look that got confessions flowing from suspects' mouths, the look that meant he'd found something which might finally break this awful case wide open. "I've been thinking about those pentagons," he said, walking over to another board where photos of the victims' bodies had been stuck. "You know, we always just thought it was this fucker's way of taunting us, having a fucking laugh. We thought it was just some sick signature or something. Serial Killers 101. But I've noticed, there's something about the number five with this guy. Wickham had _five _piercings in each ear. Bell wore size _five _shoes. Chen had _five _kids. Neill was _fifty-five _years old. See what I'm getting at? We thought the victimology was all over the place, but they're all connected by the number _five_."

"Pentagon," Naomi breathed. She leapt out of her chair, grimacing as her numb legs threatened to collapse beneath her but managing to hobble over to the map showing the locations of each crime scene. It was as though the proverbial light bulb had lit up in her head; she could almost see the one glowing in Cook's. "These locations aren't random either. They'd make a perfect _pentagon_ on the map if the next, the _fifth _victim, is found _here_." She stuck a pin into place, excitement coursing through her. A quick check of the privacy abomination that is Google maps revealed that the final point of the pentagon was a warehouse, by the looks of things deserted since the nineteenth century.

"Get in the car, blondie, we're going for a drive!" Cook yelled, looking more awake than he had in days. Naomi guessed that she looked about the same, but in their defence they'd had precious little to be excited about in the past few months.

They tore through the streets of Bristol, turning the siren off as they approached their destination since it was highly likely the killer was already there with his next victim. They parked the unmarked car a few streets away from the warehouse, wanting to give the elusive killer as little warning to their approach as possible. As they moved stealthily towards the imposing grey building, Naomi noticed immediately that something was wrong. There was a smell coming from the open doorway, a sickly, coppery smell they were all too familiar with in their line of work.

"Blood," Cook groaned softly, unholstering his gun and aiming it at the entrance while Naomi did the same. They stepped cautiously inside the warehouse, already knowing, from the stench of blood permeating the air, that it was too late for the victim but hoping that their killer was still lurking around basking in the grisly glory of his work.

"Police! Freeze!" Naomi shouted suddenly as something, or _someone_, shifted in the far corner of the warehouse.

"Put your hands where we can see them!" Cook roared, sweat beading on his forehead. A figure emerged from the shadowy corner, both hands raised in the universal sign of complacency. Naomi's jaw dropped as the figure stepped forward into the harsh light of her torch.

It was a young woman with vibrant red hair and large, chocolate brown eyes – she was more than a head shorter than Naomi, and that, along with her almost pixie-like features, gave the overwhelming impression of someone who looked incapable of even raising her voice, let alone committing five counts of murder in the first degree.

"_This _is the Butcher of Bristol?" Cook turned to face Naomi with one eyebrow raised incredulously, asking the question she herself was too shocked to voice.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Whew, ok second chapter - a little bit of Naomily in this one and don't lie...that's the only reason why any of you are here isn't it :P **

** Oh and also my very limited knowledge of law enforcement and any other crimefighty stuff I decide to write about is derived mostly from cheezy cop shows (omg bones ! ! !) so apologies in advance if it reads like a bad CSI script in places  
**

Naomi turned away from the woman for a split second to return Cook's sceptical look, which turned out to be a big mistake as the redhead took advantage of their momentary distraction to dart to the side of the building and jump clean through an open window. Naomi and Cook whipped their heads around to follow the woman's movement, but she had disappeared in a blur of red on black.

"Fuck!" Naomi cursed, still reeling from the revelation that this small redheaded woman had murdered five people in cold blood. All the same, she had never seen anyone move with such speed and nerve; she'd timed her jump perfectly _with two guns trained on her_ and the only sign she'd been there at all was the dumbfounded looks on the two detectives' faces.

"Who the fuck is this woman?" Cook panted as they dashed around to the outside of the warehouse, neither of them feeling much inclined to make the jump through the window. They could just make out the small figure of their mystery woman bolting down the road and without a word Naomi took off after her, Cook huffing and puffing along behind.

Naomi's head was buzzing with questions as she sprinted after the redhead, who appeared to have the agility and stamina of a fucking gazelle, leaping over fences, hedges and ditches without once breaking her stride. But Naomi was no sloth either, and with her significantly longer legs found herself slowly gaining ground. Cook, that tosser, was nowhere to be seen, all those years of smoking presumably having caught up with him. She hoped he hadn't died of asthma or something, though given the condition of his lungs she wouldn't be at all surprised.

Finally, legs burning and heart threatening to beat its way out of her chest and not in a good way, Naomi was close enough to the fleeing redhead to dive at her legs and send them both crashing to the ground. The ensuing struggle was short but furious, Naomi managing to get the upper hand by throwing herself bodily on top of the smaller woman and pinning her arms behind her back, but not before the redhead had thrown in a few punches and gouged what felt like a ten centimetre gash into her face with her nails. _Fucking talons, more like._ Flicking blonde hair furiously out of her eyes, Naomi cuffed the woman with a satisfied snapping sound and dragged her to her feet, still gasping for breath. _Fuck, this woman can run_. Naomi mentally thanked her mum for her supermodel legs, Miranda'd the cuffed woman, who had yet to say a single word, before dragging her none-too-gently back towards the warehouse, where the first CSI's had already started to gather.

Ten minutes later they arrived at the car, both of them still panting slightly and maintaining a stony silence between them. Cook was leaning languidly against the car, a cigarette dangling between his lips. His face lit up at the sight of his partner, who had the suspect in a cast-iron grip by the upper arm and who did not return his larrikin smile with any amount of fervour.

"Thanks for the help," she snapped. "Couldn't have done it without you."

"Aww, always a pleasure, Naomikins. Besides, looks like you had everything under control," his eyes swept over the detainee, who glared unwaveringly back at him, a challenge stamped across every feature.

"Let's get her back to the station," Naomi snarled, dabbing at the scratches on her cheek. Cook chuckled, buckling the suspect into the back seat before climbing in behind the wheel. The drive back was an uncomfortable one, even the perpetually oblivious Cook buckling a little under the waves of hostility emanating from both women. He was still a little stunned that the woman in the backseat could be responsible for the mass hysteria that had gripped Bristol for a good part of the past six months, but it looked like the only place they'd learn anything about her would be in the interview room.

Naomi scowled.

* * *

"What's your name?" Naomi demanded, sitting across from the woman in the tiny interview room, Cook at her side. They hadn't been able to find any kind of identification on the suspect, so they were going to have to do this the hard way.

"What's yours?" the woman replied insolently, tilting her head in a way that could only be described as 'bitchy'.

"You were found at the scene of a _murder_. This is no time to play games," Cook's previous good humour was rapidly deserting him, the muscle going in his jaw a sure sign that he was losing his temper.

"I didn't _do _anything. If you had any evidence-"

"You were running from the scene of a crime. We can already charge you with obstruction of justice, assault police, resisting arrest and I'm sure we can think of a whole lot on top of that. All we need is your _name,_" Naomi reasoned in a voice of deadly calm.

"Fine," the woman said after a moment's deliberation, apparently deciding that more harm than good would come of continuing this petty battle of wills. "Fitch. Katie Fucking Fitch. And I want a lawyer."

Of course she did.

"Is that Fucking with an 'F'?" Cook asked sarcastically. " And a court appointed lawyer can be-"

"No. I'm calling my sister," Katie Fitch snapped. Naomi sighed, her and Cook leaving the room for her to make the call. Naomi rolled her eyes as they watched Katie talking animatedly on the phone to her sister, presumably some hot-shot defence lawyer who was going to make a long day even longer for them.

Katie's sister arrived about half an hour later, marching briskly towards the detectives, both of whom did a comical double take as the attorney approached them.

"Twins?" Cook mouthed unnecessarily at Naomi, who shrugged. She was beginning to think that nothing could surprise her anymore tonight.

"Hello, detectives," Katie's sister said to them in the clipped tones of someone who was pissed off and trying hard not to show it. "I'm Emily, here to represent Katie….obviously."

She clasped each of their hands briefly, her grip strong and confident. She looked angry at having been dragged out of bed in the middle of the night, but Naomi couldn't help noticing that her expression was somehow softer than Katie's, and the bitchiness was missing from her eyes though they were exactly the same chestnut shade as her sister's. _Ah, the good twin_. Cook's phone started ringing, and he indicated that Naomi should begin the interview without him.

With a knowing smile at her partner, Naomi lead Emily into the interview room, where the lawyer immediately turned her attention to her sister.

"Did you say anything to them, Kay?" Katie shook her head, glaring moodily at Naomi. "Good. Now Detective Campbell, I'm pretty sure there's been a mistake. My sister-"

"Was caught fleeing from the scene of a murder. She made attempts to resist arrest and assaulted an officer of the law. That's hardly what an innocent woman would do, is it, Miss Fitch?" Naomi kept her icy blue eyes trained on Emily's.

"I didn't kill him!" Katie exclaimed shrilly, disproving Naomi's earlier opinion that the woman couldn't raise her voice. Emily placed a restraining hand on her sister's arm.

"Then how can you explain your being there at the warehouse, at the scene of a crime that even the police didn't know about?" Naomi demanded.

"Cos I'm smarter than you," Katie retorted petulantly, crossing her arms. "Thought _someone _should be investigating these murders, since you clearly aren't." Emily shot her a quelling look, and she lapsed back into a sullen silence.

"My sister's a crime writer," Emily explained, intelligent dark eyes sweeping back to Naomi. "She was researching this case for her new book, and must've come across the same lead that brought you and Detective Cook to the warehouse. The victim was already dead and the killer gone by the time Katie got there. She didn't witness the murder, and she certainly wasn't involved in it."

"Then why did you run?" Naomi narrowed her eyes. "Why didn't you explain all this at the warehouse and save everyone the trouble?" She couldn't keep the frustration out of her voice. The killer was even now making his getaway having completed his sinister quintet, and here she was wasting precious time interviewing this irritating Katie Fitch character.

"I don't trust cops, okay? Even if I explained then, you guys would've arrested me anyway. Turned me into some kind of fucking scapegoat. I know how desperate you must be for a lead. Thought I'd avoid _this,_" she waved a hand around the interview room with a look of disgust. "if I could outrun you. Turns out I might needa spend more time at Dad's gym." She looked at Emily, the corners of whose mouth twitched upwards slightly.

Naomi rolled her eyes at Katie's words, noticing that the other redheaded twin seemed to be resisting the urge to do so as well. Wondering why she had a sudden desire to smile as she saw her own exasperation mirrored in Emily's flawless features, the blonde cleared her throat quickly and fixed the scowl back onto her face. "Okay. So you find a lead but instead of going to the police with it, you decide to play detective and make your own way to the warehouse, in the process serving yourself up on a silver platter to the murdering psychopath you believe is hiding there, then you act a helluva lot like the killer you're trying to catch in the first place by running when confronted by the police. All this because you're a _crime author who doesn't trust cops_." Naomi pinched the bridge of her nose in a gesture that looked very much like defeat.

"That sounds about right," Emily said, now looking as though she were trying to suppress a smirk too. Naomi suddenly felt as though the two of them were conspiring against Katie, unwilling to examine why being on the same side as this smart, charming, redheaded lawyer pleased her so much. "I'm not saying it was the brightest thing for her to do," Emily continued as Katie scoffed. "But I think everyone in this room knows that Katie didn't kill that man, Detective. And I'm pretty sure you don't want to be wasting any more time with us Fitches. You should be out there catching a killer."

Naomi nodded, but she wasn't finished. "I believe Katie should be put under police protection until the killer is apprehended and behind bars." She said triumphantly, raising a hand as Katie immediately opened her mouth to protest. "Our victim was killed a week before full moon. This indicates that something - Katie, probably - spooked the killer while he was in the warehouse with him, and he had to carry out the murder earlier than anticipated in order to get away. If the killer saw Katie, he might see her as a potential witness, and therefore a threat. She'll be much safer under police protection."

"No objections there," Emily remarked cheerfully as Katie, speechless with fury, tore her gaze from Naomi to glare at her twin. They rose from their chairs, Naomi having explained to them that a police detail would be arranged to follow Katie like a blue and white shadow until the Butcher was caught.

Cook was leaning against the wall outside the interview room, his flushed face and satisfied smirk leaving Naomi in no doubt as to the subject of the phone 'conversation' he'd just had. He'd caught the final part of the interview, though, and lead a fuming Katie off to arrange her protective detail, leaving Emily and Naomi alone in the corridor.

"There's a very good reason why my sister doesn't trust the police, Detective Campbell," Emily said softly after a beat of silence. "She can be a right bitch sometimes - well most of the time, really - but some of the things we've been through...anyone would lose their trust after that."

If the words had come from anyone else Naomi's pride would have been up and defending her profession with hackles raised, but there was something about Emily's quiet, husky delivery that stilled the blonde's tongue. She was itching to know what had happened in the twins' past for them both to be so openly wary of law enforcement, but decided it was best not to press. "Well there's a very good reason why most of my colleagues don't trust defence lawyers," she said cheekily instead.

"That reason got something to do with the way we make a habit of tearing you apart and humiliating you in court?" Emily replied, smiling gratefully in acknowledgement of the questions Naomi had not asked.

The blonde snorted. "Yeah, you wish, Red." They both looked a little surprised at the nickname that had slipped from Naomi's mouth, seemingly without prior consultation with her brain. The laughter that followed was comfortable enough, but it was with a sense of relief that they spotted Cook returning with Katie, who was still looking remarkably menacing for such a little person.

"Come on, Em, we're leaving," she snapped, pushing past Cook and striding towards the exit with the bearing of the Queen. Emily smiled ruefully before shaking hands again with the two detectives. "Sorry for wasting your time tonight. Katie's just…" her voice trailed off, apparently unable to come up with a decent explanation for her twin's behaviour. Naomi assured her that Katie looked like Mother Theresa compared to some of the other people they'd dealt with in the past, earning her a soft chuckle from the redhead.

"Still, you might want to put something on that," Emily husked, gaze lingering on the scratches on Naomi's face before leisurely meeting the blonde's eyes. "Be a real pity to leave a scar on that face, Detective." Then she was gone, leaving Naomi struggling to fend off a very inquisitive look from Cook, and the conflicting emotions that were suddenly swirling around in her head.

**There it is..hope you enjoyed it **- **some more Naomily in the next chapter, plus Naomi's girlfriend who I'm guessing everyone already hates by default  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Chapter 3! Thanks so much for the lovely reviews guys! I'm not that happy with this chapter to be honest and it's a bit short but I think it's got everything I wanted to include so yeah..._deal with it_. :P**

"What was that about then, blondie?" Cook asked as soon as Emily was out of earshot.

"Wot?" Naomi asked, too busy gathering the notes from the interview and mentally filing them under 'Waste of Time' right alongside the piles of crap currently residing on her desk to pay him any attention.

"Back there. I'm pretty sure you and that lawyer chick had what the soppy romantics would call a 'moment'. Not that I'd know. Cookie don't do romance, as you're well aware."

"Yeah, fuck 'em and leave 'em, that's more your style isn't it?" Naomi grinned at Cook, choosing not to answer his previous question. "That was Sandra on the phone before? How is she then? Still got that way with words?"

"How'd you know it was her?" Cook asked in mock amazement.

"There's only one reason why you'd give up a chance to interview a suspect, Cook. Plus, your fly's undone."

"Knew that Katie bitch wasn't our killer, anyway," Cook grinned, doing up his trousers and ignoring his partner's pointed look of disgust. "You should've got her number."

They both knew he wasn't talking about Katie _Fucking _Fitch.

* * *

"Oh, for fuck's _sake_!" Emily growled as she backed out of the driveway and spotted the now familiar silver sedan pulling discreetly away from the curb opposite the house she and Katie shared. "How many times…?" Furious, she wrenched open the car door and stormed over to the unmarked police car, rather unnecessarily knocking on the window to get the occupants' attention.

"Miss Fitch," the officer inside greeted her, lowering the window and blinking bemusedly at the irate redhead. "Is something the matter, ma'am?"

"The _matter _is that I fear for every person living in Bristol if we've got to rely on idiots like you to protect and serve. Are you going to take full responsibility if that psycho comes and offs my sister while you're wasting your time following me all over the countryside?" She rolled her eyes as he continued to look baffled. "You've got the wrong _Miss Fitch _again_, _Sherlock. For the last time, I'm _Emily _Fitch_._ _Katie_ Fitch is still inside, snoring the house down." With that, she left the poor officer sitting there like a scolded puppy and got back into her own car, cursing her initial decision to accept the offer of police protection.

It was just that she'd been so irritated with Katie and the trouble her never-know-when-to-shut-my-mouthism could have caused in the interview room the other day that she'd rather unprofessionally leapt at the opportunity to punish her for it. Detective Campbell's suggestion had been perfect; Katie was a fiercely independent person and Emily had known that nothing could piss her sister off more than being babysat by the police day in day out.

Of course, the whole thing had backfired on her when Katie decided to spend almost every hour of every day at home finishing her latest book anyway, and it was Emily who found herself being tailed everywhere she went by the big silver guard dog seemingly glued to the curb outside their house. An incredibly thick and short-sighted guard dog which had now mistaken her for Katie five times in three days and which was really starting to get on Emily's nerves.

"Can't even go to the supermarket without feeling like the bloody Prime Minister," she muttered to herself, putting the car into gear. "Fucking Katie."

* * *

"Come on, Naomi, it won't be that bad."

"Yes it will. You said that last year as well, and look at how that turned out. Your dad almost had a stroke," Naomi scowled at her girlfriend.

"Well you weren't exactly…tactful…with some of the things you said. Just try not to piss him off this time and it'll be fine," Jackie assured her, a bite of impatience in her voice.

"Yeah, I can _try_. Wish I could say the same for_ him_." Naomi was determined to be in a bad mood, despite the cheerful Christmas music blaring from the supermarket speakers. Fucking Rudolph could just fuck right off with his light-bulb nose. "Jackie, he hates me. I don't get why I have to go to this Christmas dinner when it's just gonna make everyone miserable anyway."

"He doesn't hate you, he just…" Naomi lifted an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for the brunette to finish her sentence. Jackie sighed. "Look, it's important to me, okay? It's Christmas, and all I want is to have dinner with the two of you – a nice _civilised _dinner, no sniping at each other across the table and no setting fire to the tablecloth like last time. Okay?"

"That was an accident," Naomi said sheepishly, suddenly feeling like the worst girlfriend in the world. "It was that fucking baked alaska. But okay, fine, I'll go to this dinner thing and I'll be nice to Daddy. I'll even pretend to be interested while he's listing all the reasons why I'm not good enough for his baby girl. Ooh look, Garibaldis!" she exclaimed suddenly, making a beeline for the distinctive purple packaging of her staple food.

She reached for the last packet remaining on the shelf, but before she could take it someone else's hand had snuck in and grabbed it.

"Hey wha-" she whirled around to give the offender an earful, but stopped short when she was confronted by all-too-familiar vibrant red hair and large, dark eyes. Her hand immediately leapt to the healing scratches on her cheek, and the woman chuckled.

"Wrong Fitch twin, detective. I'm Emily," the redhead grinned at her. "Katie's at home with her babysitter. Who, just so you know, is a complete and utter twat. Anyway, so you do your shopping here too, huh? Small world. Shouldn't you be at the station saving the world or something though?"

"Girlfriend day," Naomi rolled her eyes playfully, waving her hand at the leggy brunette engrossed in a shopping list a few metres behind her. "Apparently I've been spending way too much time at the station so saving the world's been put on hold for today. What about you? Shouldn't you be in court defending the slime of society with big words?" Her bright blue eyes took in the redhead's black hoody and battered Converses – definitely not courtroom attire.

"Fuck off," Emily laughed good-naturedly, correctly interpreting Naomi's smirk. "So you're…gay, then?" she asked casually, glancing over at Jackie.

"Yep. Gay as a fucking window. You don't…have a problem with that, do you?" Naomi asked hesitantly, feeling inexplicably nervous. _Oh, fuck's sake. _Normally she didn't give a flying fuck what people thought about her, having learnt that not caring was the best way to protect herself against all the arseholes who gave her crap at work and just arseholes in general, but for some reason none of the normal rules seemed to apply with the younger Fitch twin and she realised she cared way more than she should about what this scrappy little redhead thought of her.

"No, of course not!" Emily said quickly. Then she grinned mischievously, still looking at Jackie. "Bet you use your cuffs in bed."

"Yeah, I uhm...What ? ?" Naomi dropped the packet of instant noodles she was holding, not sure if she'd heard correctly and immediately feeling herself go red. _Great, that's just fucking great, Campbell. _

"Law school." Emily offered rather unhelpfully by way of explanation. "Anyway, you wanted these?" she held up the packet of Garibaldis. "Wow, I thought I was the only person who still ate these. You know, since that whole health scare thing? I reckon it's bollocks, but Katie won't touch them anymore."

"Yeah, Jackie's the same," Naomi said, her cheeks still slightly pink. "But seriously I've lived off these things since college and I haven't died yet so I reckon they're pretty safe." They shared an easy laugh and started talking about other things as they walked along the aisles together, discovering that they both wanted to get the hell out of Bristol but were tied down by family, they both thought the Prime Minister was a complete twat (well Naomi did, and Emily just thought it best to nod and agree), and, weirdly enough, they both liked watching horror movies alone at night with the lights out and the doors closed.

Naomi couldn't believe how easy it was to talk to Emily; people usually kept their distance from her, put off by her cool eyes and prickly sarcasm – not to mention by the gun that was usually attached to her hip – but again, there was just something about the redhead that put her completely at ease and effortlessly melted the icy exterior she'd spent so long perfecting. _It's part of her job_, _making people feel comfortable. She _is _a lawyer after all…talking's kind of her thing. And she's a _defence _lawyer, too – so keep your distance, Naomi, she may be gorgeous as hell but she's clearly the kind of girl who eats people alive if they get too close. Wait. Gorgeous? I do _not _think she's gorgeous. _

But she did, and try as she might she could not tear her eyes away from the redhead, noting the way Emily's perfect pink lips always twitched adorably up at the corners when she was about to give one of those low throaty chuckles that Naomi was rapidly becoming addicted to; taking in the slope of her neck and the way her soft red hair fell carelessly around slender shoulders, the way her brown eyes sparkled with mirth when she laughed. The girl's soft laughter was infectious, and Naomi found herself grinning like a loon as the redhead talked about her pervy younger brother and the rest of her dysfunctional family.

"Hey babes, you done?" Jackie suddenly appeared at her side with the shopping trolley, smiling politely at Emily as Naomi's eyes skittered guiltily away. "Who's this?"

"Oh hi, I'm Emily. I'm-"

"Another bonkers ambulance chaser," Naomi finished for her, laughing as Emily whacked her on the arm.

"Hey, did your girlfriend tell you how she got those scratches on her face?" Emily grinned wickedly in retaliation as Naomi's eyes widened. "Well she got the crap beat out of her by my twin sister. I bet she told you they came from some kind of heroic struggle with a violent axe-murderer or something, didn't she?"

"Okay, let's go _pay_," Naomi scowled as Jackie burst out laughing, but she was soon smiling irrepressibly again when Emily threw the Garibaldis into her trolley with a wink and a twitch of her lips.

_Don't mind me. I'll just be here grinning like an idiot while you stand there looking all sexy and adorable and untouchable, Emily Fitch. _

The left the supermarket, Jackie and Emily chattering away amiably while Naomi lagged behind, struggling with the shopping and with the furious internal battle that was suddenly raging inside her head. Of course, it didn't help that neither Jackie nor Emily could see the way her eyes were now glued to the sway of the latter's hips and the almost halo-like glow the sunlight created off her fiery red hair. _Stop it, you fucking perve. Seriously, how well do you even know the girl? And have you forgotten your _girlfriend?_ You know, the one who gives you massages and breakfast in bed and Arctic Monkeys tickets just because you've had a bad day at work?_

She shook her head and dutifully removed her gaze from Emily's ass, breathing a sigh of relief when they finally reached the safety of Jackie's car. She and Emily exchanged numbers, and Naomi's thoughts were, for the most part, innocent as Emily leant in to kiss her lightly on the cheek before the redhead went off to get her own car, muttering something about guard dogs.

_Summer,_ Naomi thought, all her senses filled for a second with the redhead's pineapple and coconut scented shampoo. _She smells just like summer. _

* * *

She and Jackie drove home in silence but as soon as they got home and had brought in the groceries, Naomi grabbed her girlfriend and pushed her roughly up against the kitchen wall, kissing her hungrily as one hand tangled in the brunette's hair and the other found its way inside her shirt.

"Naomi, what-?" Jackie gasped in surprise, clutching onto the blonde's lean shoulders as a firm thigh insinuated its way between her own.

"Shh," Naomi whispered, putting a finger to the lips that were quivering centimetres from hers. She kept her eyes locked on her girlfriend's stormy green ones, memorising the emotions she saw swirling inside them, drinking in the love and desire that sparkled so unashamedly in their depths. _You're mine_, _and_ _I won't let anything fuck this up. _She surged forward and captured the brunette's lips again, breathing a gratified sigh as Jackie's arms tightened around her neck and the brunette began grinding against her thigh, eyelashes fluttering against Naomi's cheek.

"Naomi," Jackie groaned as the blonde's mouth slid hotly down her throat, undoing buttons frantically with her teeth. Naomi growled low in her throat, pressing the brunette even harder up against the wall with her body, running her hands up and down the smooth skin of Jackie's thighs. "Fucking hell," Jackie gasped, wrapping her legs around Naomi's waist. They stumbled into the bedroom, stripping off their clothes and landing on the bed in a heaving tangle of limbs.

They made love slowly and tenderly but with a desperate intensity that had never been there before, as though both of them had felt something unknowable shift irreversibly between them today and were hopelessly trying to cling on to this fleeting moment of pure, unadulterated love in the sanctity of their room.

"I love you," Naomi breathed as her girlfriend trembled beneath her, back arching and heels digging frantically into the mattress. "I fucking love you."

Jackie merely nodded, struggling to bring her breathing back under control as she kept her arms locked around the blonde.

_"_I know."

* * *

**Yes, I did just watch _Imagine Me and You _recently and yes, the supermarket scene was kinda inspired by that :) **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Another short-ish chapter, can't really seem to write longer ones for some reason - bloody short attention span. I blame sleep deprivation from having to wake up at 4am to watch the soccer. Grr. Anyway, thanks heaps for the reviews as usual, it makes writing a whole helluva lot easier :) You guys are awesome!**

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Seven o'clock in the AM, and Naomi Campbell was sitting at her desk feeling distinctly homicidal for someone whose life was dedicated to catching and putting away murderers.

It had been a week since the Katie Fitch warehouse fiasco, and not only had the police found nothing useful at the scene or on the body to point them in the direction of the killer, but the press had somehow gotten hold of what they described as the 'complete mishandling of a potential witness', and the entire homicide department was suddenly squirming under the spotlight of an accusing public hell bent on getting some answers. From the smug tone present in most of the articles Naomi had a pretty shrewd idea where the papers were sourcing their information from, but since she and Cook had already been singled out as target practice for the media because of their part in the 'embarrassing bungle', she turned her back on every instinct and decided that permanently silencing Katie Fitch would probably constitute career suicide at this point.

Not that she hadn't contemplated the idea. Several times, in fact, and in increasingly violent and illegal ways.

Cook was sitting slumped in his own chair, scouring the latest victim's autopsy report for the hundredth time in the hope of finding something they'd overlooked. He was clicking his pen absently in a way that was seriously starting to piss Naomi off, but she gritted her teeth and ignored the irritating _click-click-click-_ing noises as she turned back to the crime scene photos.

_Speaking of pissed off…_her phone suddenly buzzed with a message, and she opened it to find a text from an angry-sounding redhead.

'**srsly thinking abt just letting sherlock holmes look inside my underwear drawer or sumthing rite now cos that's how much privacy me n Katie r getting atm. Got court in a few hours. Hope ur having a better day than i am. -E'**

Naomi bit down on her lower lip to stop the grin that was threatening to make an appearance – she'd gotten so used to not smiling these past few days that she wasn't even sure if those particular muscles still worked anymore.

'**feel like the worst cop in the world for saying this 2 a defence lawyer but good luck in court later - if it makes u feel any better ur day cant possibly b going worse than mine. –N' **

Her phone buzzed again and Cook looked at her curiously over the top of the report he was reading. Jackie. Naomi really did allow herself a smile this time; what with work and constantly having to dodge reporters she'd hardly spoken to her girlfriend all week and the only thing she wanted right now was to hear the brunette's voice in her ear.

"Hey, babes. What's up?"

"Naomi, thank god, I thought you might've been called to that press conference to make a statement about the mistake you guys made last we-"

"_What? _The mistake _we _made?" Naomi bristled instantly, her good mood evaporating fast. "Jackie, me and Cook almost caught that fucking bastard! We worked our arses off and we didn't leave the station for four fucking days trying to get something on him and we fucking did! It was that crime writer who fucked up, not us, so if you're calling just to tell me how shit I am at my job, you can save it. The papers are doing that just fine. As if it's not enough that the whole of Bristol thinks it's our fault that man died– I really don't need my fucking girlfriend to judge me right now too, Jackie."

"Jesus, I know you've been _working your arse off_, Naomi. You didn't bother going to that charity ball on Thursday with me or the company fundraiser the week before that. You know how important those kind of events are. No wonder dad says-"

"Yeah? What does Daddy have to say now? No wait, forget it I've already heard it all before. I didn't go because I was trying to catch a fucking _murderer_, Jackie, it's not like I _wanted_ you to go alone and get perved on and felt up by every middle-aged businessman there."

Jackie sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, Nai. I know how much this Butcher case is taking out of you and I was out of line. But I wasn't actually calling about the case. I just wanted to tell you that I have to go to London for a conference tonight, and I won't be back for two days. I'm sorry. And also, one of my friends from business school called just before. She's having some kind of party later in the week, and I said I'd be there. Well, I kinda told her we'd _both _be there, so..."

"'Kay."

"Thanks, babes. Um, listen, I've got to go get ready for London now. I'll call you when I get there, okay? And good luck with the case. Love you."

"Yeah. Love you too." Naomi hung up, rubbing her eyes wearily and wondering how it was possible to be feeling even worse than she had ten minutes ago.

_Click-click-click-click-click._

Cook barely had time to duck as she snapped and chucked her phone at his head.

* * *

_"Not guilty."_

Emily allowed herself a sigh of relief as the foreman delivered his verdict. The judge declared the defendant cleared of all charges, pounded his gavel, and Emily left the courtroom with the distinctly airy feeling that only came with winning a particularly long and trying case.

Effy Stonem was already waiting for her outside the courtroom with her father, Emily too used to the mysterious ways of her client to question how she'd gotten there so quickly. Receiving a thin-lipped smile, which she took as an expression of gratitude from the lanky brunette, she grinned and shook Mr. Stonem's proffered hand.

"Excellent job, Miss Fitch, I knew those charges would never hold," he beamed, red fingernail indents on his cheeks telling a drastically different story. "Listen, Effy's throwing a party on Wednesday to celebrate the opening of our new office. All the company directors and partners and all that will be there, and just a few close friends of ours as well. I'm sure they'd all like to thank you personally for your help on this case."

"Oh, thank you, but it's not really my kind of-"

"Come now," he said. "We'd really love for you to be there. And you'll be able to make yourself a few useful contacts too. Bright young lawyer like you can never have enough contacts, right?"

"Thanks, but-"

"I insist." Effy spoke up at last, looking directly at Emily.

_Bollocks. _

_

* * *

_

It was every bit as shit as she'd imagined, the Stonem house crawling with the snooty who's who of society, and even a few rapidly downed glasses of some sparkling beverage that probably cost more than her car had done nothing to ease her discomfort. She nodded politely as an old man with ringlets coming out of his nose wrung her hand repeatedly, apparently under the impression that she was some kind of opera star, a few of whom were indeed present in the house.

"Oh, thank fuck!" Emily exclaimed suddenly, spotting a certain blonde detective leaning against a wall looking so bored she appeared to be in a sort of upright coma. "What the hell are _you_ doing here, Campbell?"

Naomi's eyes lit up instantly when she saw who it was, drawing the redhead into a hug but pulling away quickly when she felt her body react unmistakeably to the redhead's sudden proximity. "Good fucking question - I've been asking myself the same one for the past hour. Apparently Jackie's really good friends with the chick who's throwing this party and she dragged me along. I didn't exactly get a fucking choice. As usual." The quiet bitterness in her voice suggested that she'd already had more than a bit to drink as well. "What about you, Fitch? What are you doing here rubbing shoulders with the crème de la crème? Bunch of pompous, self-important tossers," she muttered under her breath.

"Uh, the chick who's throwing the party? I managed to get her out of an assault conviction the other day. Some disgruntled employee accused her of hitting him in the head with a rock. I'm here because her and her multi-million dollar company are eternally grateful and wouldn't take no for an answer."

Naomi snorted. "Toy Story reference? Wow, I'm sorry, just didn't pick you for the kiddie movie type. I was thinking your taste in movies would be more 'Twelve Angry Men' or something equally dull and lawyer-y."

"Okay. First off? There is not one person in the world who's watched Toy Story and not loved it, and if there is, they're really not someone worth knowing. Secondly, 'Twelve Angry Men' isn't even about lawyers. Uneducated twat. What's _your_ favourite movie then?"

"Twilight."

Emily choked on the small oddly shaped pastry she'd just snatched off a passing waiter's tray. "Twilight? What the fuck Naomi, and you were giving _me _crap?"

"What?" Naomi raised her hands defensively. "It's good, have you even watched it?"

"No, but being all-seeing, I already know it's shit." Naomi snorted. "Besides, the main character's a passive-aggressive paedophilic vegetarian stalker vampire who _sparkles _in the sun. Yeah, I can totally see why you love it so much now."

"Fuck off, bitch. The story's actually really…oh christ, let's get out of here," she groaned as she spotted one of Jackie's socialite friends drifting over to say hello, and she really was not in the mood to have a conversation with the haughty woman's nostrils.

They fought their way through the throng of "pompous, self-important tossers" as Naomi had so eloquently described their fellow party guests, still bickering about the merits of Twilight and Stephanie Meyer's questionable contribution to the world of film and literature. Jackie was nowhere to be seen, presumably making the most of this opportunity to forge connections with the upper echelons of society, who really were out in full force tonight.

They finally made it out into the relative quiet of Effy's enormous garden, neither of them finding it necessary to break the comfortable silence between them as they sat on a stone bench gazing up at the stars, lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, Emily remembered Naomi's earlier comment about Jackie, and turned to face the blonde.

"So how long have you and Jackie, you know, been together?"

Naomi took her time answering, playing with her glass. "Almost four years now. We met when someone murdered a security guard at one of her dad's jewellery stores. I know, romantic, right?" she laughed at the slightly disenchanted look on Emily's face. "And it's clichéd as fuck, but we just kind of… clicked, you know? It was the first time I'd ever been in love, and really it was the most amazing feeling in the world. We were just so fucking _happy_ together, like no one else even existed – just the two of us in our own little world. And I thought nothing would ever, ever change between us, like we could just stay like that forever, you know? When we were just two people crazy in love with each other, doing whatever the fuck we wanted whenever the fuck we wanted. Then things just kinda went to shit when her dad got really sick, and her brother turned out to be a complete arsehole, and Jackie had to take over most of her dad's business. And after that, it was all posh dinner parties and business meetings for her and we kind of...I mean, I'm just a fucking cop who can barely afford the rent and she's..." she cleared her throat guiltily, feeling suddenly like she'd revealed too much. "But you don't want to hear about my sordid love life. What about you? Girl like you, there's gotta be someone, right?" Naomi asked, heart rate rising almost imperceptibly as she cast a sidelong glance at Emily and wondered about the person who got to hold the redhead's hand and buy her gifts and kiss her and tell her they loved her.

Emily looked at her almost shyly then, and Naomi had never seen anything more beautiful or more perfect as the bashful smile that appeared on the girl's lips in that moment. Then the redhead reached for the collar of her shirt and for one crazy instant that sent her heart jerking erratically against her ribcage, Naomi thought she was going to undo the buttons on her shirt. But then Emily's fingers emerged, holding the delicate silver chain of the necklace she always wore. A small heart-shaped locket was attached to it.

"My fiancé." Emily said simply, opening the locket to show Naomi a black-and-white photo of herself in the arms of a dark-haired man whose features she couldn't make out in the dark.

"Oh, wow, congratulations!" Naomi exclaimed, cursing herself for being a _really_ _fucking bad_ _friend_ when she felt her smile flicker. "So, when's the wedding?" She raised her eyebrows when Emily remained silent for a long time, watching Naomi's slender finger running absently along the rim of her champagne flute.

"He…died two years ago, a week after he proposed to me," Emily said finally. "I haven't…been with anyone you know, properly … since."

It wasn't the first time she'd talked about Freddie's death, but when Naomi's eyes widened with shock and her mouth parted in a silent _oh _as the redhead's words sunk in, Emily felt suddenly more exposed and vulnerable than she had ever been in her life. Perhaps it was the way those expressive azure eyes now shone with a heartbreaking affection as Naomi looked at her, but she felt as though she'd opened up some horribly naked part of herself to the blonde, the part of her that she always disguised so well with her sharp tongue and her quick wit, the part of her that cried out for someone to just notice how lonely she was _all the fucking time_, how much she wanted someone to want her the way Freddie always had, and how hard it was to keep pretending that being alone didn't terrify the _shit _out of her. No one had ever come close to seeing that part of her before; not her mum or her dad, not even Katie who knew her better than anyone in the world, and definitely not the faceless strangers she screwed when the thought of going home to an empty bed scared her more than death. No one until now.

Until now, when a sardonic blue-eyed detective wordlessly slid her arms around her and held her and tenderly stroked her hair without the usual _I'm sorry_ bullshit that was the normal response people usually gave to her. I _know you, Emily, _Naomi told her silently instead._ I know you're lonely. I know you need someone to want you. And it's okay. It's okay to be alone, and afraid. _Emily shattered then, falling apart in Naomi's warm embrace and clinging to the back of the blonde's shirt, crying softly into her chest.

"I'm sorry," she managed eventually, lifting her head from the wet patch she'd created on Naomi's shirt. She gave a wobbly smile. "I'll get you a new shirt."

"Fuck the fucking shirt, Ems," Naomi said seriously, blue eyes blazing as she gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. Emily had to look away, the raw emotion shining in the blonde's eyes making her heart ache. "Hey," Naomi said gently, unsure what to say to the beautiful, broken girl beside her. "At least you know he was the happiest man in the world when he…when it happened. At least he knew he was going to spend the rest of his life with you."

Emily shook her head sadly, her eyes returning to the stars scattered across the velvet night sky.

"I said no."

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**Ah poor Freds, dead before he even makes an appearance. Skins killed him first, please don't shoot me! Unless you do so after leaving a review, I may forgive you then :) Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

** A/N: Hey guys! thanks for sticking with this story so far I know it's a bit slow and draggy right now but it should get better soon...hopefully :) oh and also thanks so much for the favs and alerts it means alot and they make me plenty happy and gooey inside :D **

** ahem moving on then...  
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Naomi's mouth opened and closed wordlessly, her mind a total blank as to what to say or do next. Emily, resplendent in the silvery moonlight, leaned back on her arms with a soft sigh and continued her quiet contemplation of the stars. She seemed content just to sit in a silence that was rapidly becoming unbearable to Naomi.

"I'm sorry," she blurted finally when the silence had become too heavy to ignore.

Emily lifted her head in surprise. "For what?"

"For crapping on about me and Jackie like it was something important. For talking like a selfish, obnoxious cow. For bitching about my so-called 'problems' when you…I mean…you can't even …"

"It's okay," the redhead rescued her with a soft smile, toying with the chain of the locket around her neck. "It's not like you knew, right? And you can stop looking at me like I'm made of glass or something. I'm okay," Emily laughed, nudging her in the ribs. Naomi cracked a smile. "I just…I get all this sympathy from people, everyone always asking me how I'm doing and stuff, you know? And I can tell them that I'm really fucking miserable, that I beat myself up every day for saying no to him that day, but you know what? All I can do really is hope that…in the end, when it was all that fucking mattered…he knew that it wasn't because I didn't love him enough. Because that's not true. And what really scares me most in the world is that he died not knowing that." She ran a finger lightly over the silver casing of the locket, dark eyes tinged with bitter regret.

"So then…why did you say no?" Naomi asked gently, unable to look away.

"Because I wasn't ready." Emily smiled a little at how cliché that sounded. "I was still at school, doing something I really fucking hated, and there were still so many things about myself that I was unsure of – if _I_ didn't even know myself, how could I trust him to know me well enough to spend the rest of his life with me? But he'd always said from the start, when we met, that I was the one for him – that we'd get married someday. He was one of those guys, you know? He told me he'd wait until I felt the same way, that it didn't matter how long I took. But I was someone who was happy to just… be, you know? And he was fine with that too. But then-"

"You got pregnant," Naomi said, suddenly understanding.

Emily nodded and looked away. "He proposed almost as soon as he found out. It wasn't even me who told him." Her voice broke. "I said no because it was the wrong timing, the wrong reason, the wrong everything. He thought it was because I was worried he couldn't support me and the baby. We had a fight and he left Bristol. I was standing at the top of the stairs when the police called and told me he'd been killed in a robbery. I-I lost my balance and the baby..._our_ baby didn't make it. The doctors tried everything but...they told me there was nothing they could do," her jaw was clenched and she was talking in the choppy, dispassionate sentences of someone who'd been through seven shades of hell and whose only way to keep the demons at bay was to act every day like the fire wasn't eating them up inside.

"Em…" Naomi breathed after a moment of stunned silence, feeling tears stinging in her own eyes as she watched the redhead struggle gamely for composure.

"It was a girl. I know it was. She would've been two this year. Charlotte, we decided, if it was a girl," Emily smiled sadly at her, her brave voice like a knife through Naomi's heart. "I'm sorry. Um….could you…?"

Naomi nodded and got up immediately, squeezing the redhead's shoulder briefly. Emily looked at her then, a world of pain in her eyes.

"She would've been the luckiest child in the world, Ems," Naomi said gently, unsure if she was saying the right thing. "You would've been a great mum, you know."

Emily closed her eyes, a single tear escaping from beneath closed lids, and against every instinct Naomi left her there, a sad and lonely silhouette in the quiet of the Stonem's enormous, still garden.

* * *

She rejoined the party, her heart not in it at all, but smiled politely enough every time Jackie introduced her to one of the people in the room. Her head was miles away, lost somewhere in red hair and soft, anguished eyes. She forced herself to laugh along at some high flying executive's piss poor and borderline offensive jokes, when all she really wanted to do was to grab his pudgy shoulders and shake him and tell him to go home and tell his wife and kids that he loved them because life had a way of really _fucking people over_. She kept her hand entwined with Jackie's all night, guilt bubbling away in the pit of her stomach every time her girlfriend smiled at her, because it was someone else's face now that was filling her thoughts, making her palms sweat and her heart race. When the crowd spilled out into the garden she saw with a rush of disappointment that Emily had gone. _Shit_, she thought, mentally slapping herself. _Shit. She really needed someone to be with her, and I just fucking left her there._

"She told me to thank you," a quiet voice suddenly said behind her, making her jump. Jackie excused herself with a smile and a light touch of Naomi's arm.

"Oh, thanks…um…it's Ellie, right?"

"Effy, actually."

"Oh, sorry," Naomi said, feeling like a prat. She seemed to be doing that a lot tonight. "Um…is she okay then? Emily?"

"Did you do something to her?"

"What? Jesus, no! Except…I shouldn't have left her. I just…she told me she needed some time by herself for a bit. I – I think that's what she meant, anyway. I didn't want to crowd her too much. But…" she worried her lower lip as Effy watched her basically have a conversation with herself. "I should've stayed, shouldn't I?"

"Would it make you feel better if you had?"

"_Yes_. No…not if she wanted to be alone, but...ugh, I donno. Did she say anything else?"

"About you?"

"About anything. And do you always do that, by the way? You know, answer a question with another question."

Effy shrugged, and out of nowhere offered her a spliff. Naomi's eyes widened.

"Uh…I'm not sure if Jackie told you, but I'm a cop."

"So?"

"So…I'm kinda professionally and morally obliged to arrest you now."

"And are you going to?" Effy lit the spliff, completely unconcerned. "Because that's what you _should _do." They looked at each other for a moment and Naomi suddenly grinned, felt better.

"Right. Thanks. Great party, by the way."

"Bollocks. You hate it. Except when you were with her." Effy's gaze was piercing. Naomi shifted, uncomfortable. Reading people was _her _job, but she felt like she couldn't grasp the nature of this girl at all. She cleared her throat, Effy's unspoken words hanging in the silence.

"Yeah, well thanks anyway. For the party, I mean, and for…you know…" she waved her hand vaguely at the spliff in Effy's hand, having half a mind to take it from her and take a few good drags herself. Effy merely smiled her mysterious smile and drifted off.

That night, Naomi lay awake staring blankly at the ceiling while Jackie breathed steadily beside her, her dreams perfect and untroubled. Naomi kissed her lightly on the forehead and crept out of bed, padding over to the balcony and shivering as the cold night air embraced her. She hadn't been sleeping well for weeks, her dreams plagued by images of mutilated bodies and killers lurking in hidden corners, but that wasn't what was keeping her up tonight. She gazed up at the stars that had seemed to enthral Emily so much. _Emily_. Naomi had never felt a stronger or fiercer desire to protect anyone in her life. She grabbed her phone and just stood there for what felt like hours, heart bursting with emotion and wondering how she could possibly put everything she felt right now into a fucking text message.

'**hope ur doing ok – dint see u leave before. Stars r kinda bright tonite arent they? –N' **

She regretted it as soon as she'd hit 'send', feeling herself cringe with embarrassment. She stayed on the balcony for a long time, waiting for a reply and when it finally came, it was only a small smiley face but Naomi felt her heart lift immediately and she returned to bed, somehow feelign better than she had in days.

* * *

"Namio!" Cook greeted her with his usual cheer as soon as she walked into the bullpen the next morning. "You look like crap."

"Thanks, Cook. Now be a good boy and fuck off, would you?" she stalked towards her desk, but was stopped short by the sight of her boss standing next to it.

"Campbell." He nodded at her, something like a smile tugging at his lips. "It's that time of the month again."

"Fucking hell," she muttered under her breath. "Can't it wait? I mean, it's kinda now or never with this case, you now, and I really should be-"

"Nice try, detective. Cook's already told me there's no new information on the case right now, so one hour without you is hardly going to make a huge difference, is it?"

Naomi shot a furious look at her partner. _I love you, _he mouthed, grinning his stupid grin.

"Doctor Cornwell is waiting for you in his office. And you can stop glaring at me like it's my fault. You know it's standard procedure and all that."

Naomi scowled and made her way over to the office of Dr. Cornwell, the department shrink. She flung open the door without knocking, and plopped herself into the faded leather chair in the middle of the room.

"Ah, Naomi, do...come on in."

"That's Detective Campbell to you."

"Right, I'm sorry. So, how have you been, then, detective?"

"Great. Really fucking great. Even better for seeing your delightful face this cheery Monday morning." She waved an airy hand at the rain falling heavily outside the window.

"You remember what I said in our previous sessions about your use of sarcasm as a defensive mechanism?"

"I'm not being defensive. I really am that happy to see you."

Dr. Cornwell smiled endearingly at her and Naomi felt like kicking his teeth in. Then she wondered if it was thoughts like this that kept convincing the good doctor that these monthly psych evaluations were still necessary.

"You haven't been sleeping, detective." It wasn't a question. Naomi wished she'd taken more time in the morning covering up the shadows beneath her eyes. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

_Hell no_, was Naomi's first instinctive thought. But he just nodded at her encouragingly, and she realised that there was no way she could get out of this before the hour was up. So she sighed and told him what he was digging for. Everything that had happened in the month since she'd last sat here in this chair; from the hell this case was putting her through, to how she was screwing things up with Jackie, to the way she'd felt so completely helpless in the face of Emily's pain. And all the time, Dr. Cornwell just nodded and smiled and wrote notes in his little book.

"Right, doc. So what's wrong with me? Go on. Analyse away," she said when she'd finished. This was exactly why she hated these psych evals the way normal people hated going to the dentist. Like extracting fucking teeth, it was. Of course, most of the time she was the one making things difficult.

"I think, detective, that this case has stirred up some old nightmares, and it's affecting every other aspect of your life right now. Your relationships, your ability to cope with pressure and changes around you. I believe it's forced you to confront some of the traumas in your past-"

"Is this about my dad being killed again? Cos you've told me before. Dad's death turned me into a cold, sarcastic, workaholic bitch. Yeah, what else is new?"

Dr. Cornwell smiled again. _Here we go._ "No, Naomi. I'm not talking about your father's death this time. I'm talking about the othermajor ordeal you went through. The reason why you were ordered to take these sessions. I think the pressure of chasing Bristol's worst serial killer is reminding you of the inadequacy you felt after that incident, when you were questioning your future as a police officer. And you're trying to prove that you're not a failure _this_ time by throwing yourself into your work, doing anything you can to catch this killer. And of course that's affecting your relationship with Jackie. And your friend, Emily-" Naomi sat up a little straighter. "-you feel like you should be doing more to help her, to protect her. Because you feel it's your _job_ to make people feel safe."

_Oh, is that what it is? So it's nothing to do with the way my mouth goes dry and my heart starts going faster whenever I look at her? Whenever I even _think _about her? Have you got a cure for that, doctor? Because I can't stop. I need to, but I can't. _

She kept that to herself though. "So basically," she said cheerfully instead. "all I have to do is solve this case and everything will fix itself. Great! Well I-" her phone buzzed with a message. Cook.

'**they've found another body.'**

Her heart plummeted. _Not again_.

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**sorry for leaving it there guys but i wasn't really feeling up to writing the crime scene which is going to be kinda gory so be warned, hehehe... **

**anyway so i guess this is the part where i shimmy and say 'reviews reviews reviews!' while you guys give me weird/disgusted looks. But i do love those reviews, like fierce, ya know? so thoughts, comments, suggestions, rotten tomatoes, throw 'em all at me i love any kind of feedback :)  
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**thanks heaps for reading as usual!  
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	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Ok so I feel like I should apologise for leaving that annoying cliffhanger last chapter and then not updating sooner but something really huge came up - as in I've probably just been written out of my parents' will kind of huge - so I think that's a fair enough excuse, riiight? Anyway this chapter was written when I was in a really shitty mood so it's probably a piece of crap and you're probably gonna want to kill me for wasting your time when you reach the end of it but I thought I'd at least put _something_ up so here it is...  
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Naomi knew it would be bad before she even got out of the car. The back of her neck prickled ominously as the first officers on the scene moved aside to make way for her and Cook, their faces pale and grim in the grey light of the morning. The horribly familiar stench of blood reached Naomi's nostrils as she thrust her hands deep into the pockets of her trench coat, picking her way through dead branches and gnarled roots at the edge of the woods where the body had been found. The jogger who'd made the gruesome discovery was emptying his stomach spectacularly into a bush, and a few of the officers looked like they were seriously considering joining him.

The first thing Naomi noticed as she approached the body was the viciousness of the attack. The tree trunk to which the body had been tied was slippery red with blood, and chunks of bark had been gouged away as though the killer hadn't cared at all whether he was hacking at wood or flesh. One arm had been almost completely severed at the elbow, the forearm hanging loosely by a flap of skin like the world's most repulsive pendulum. The dead woman's clothing was drenched in shockingly scarlet blood, her face distorted in a permanent and grotesque grimace of pain. Glimpses of pinkish white bone could be seen in places, highlighting the savagery of the cuts that had sliced open flesh like it was paper.

"Fucking hell," Cook uttered. Even with the gaping red wounds all over the victim's arm, Naomi could make out a darkened patch where a piece of skin shaped like a pentagon had been removed.

"It's definitely him," she said. "The press doesn't know about the pentagons. But other than that the MO is all wrong - it's not full moon, and none of the other victims were tortured like this." She kept her voice steady, but her heart was thudding painfully against her chest and her hands were shaking.

"He was angry. Really fucking angry," Cook said grimly, examining a deep cut to the woman's throat which had probably been the one that killed her. "Something about this victim really pissed the bastard off."

That's when Naomi noticed the colour of the woman's hair.

"Fuck," she whispered, cold dread washing over her. "I think I know why he did this." She grabbed her phone and began to dial.

* * *

"Shit!" Emily swore as her phone started ringing in her pocket. She stumbled towards her desk, somehow managing not to spill the cup of coffee balanced precariously on top of the stack of files in her arms.

"Here, let me help you." Tony Wyatt, an intern at the law firm who had a notorious and kind of endearing crush on her, immediately jumped up and grabbed the coffee and the files for her. She flashed him a smile that was probably going straight into his wank bank, pulling the phone from her pocket and smiling even more widely when she saw who it was.

"Naoms, hey! Sorry I kind of disappeared on you last-"

"Where are you?" the blonde's voice was abrupt, anxious.

"Uh…I'm at work. You know, working...? Why?"

"Go home. Call Katie and tell her to do the same. I'll meet you guys there." Naomi hung up. Emily stared at the phone, perplexed. She'd never heard Naomi speak like that before, all worried and upset and actually fucking _scared_. It was that last which got her moving, snatching her jacket off the back of the chair as she flipped open her phone to call Katie. _What the hell is going on?_

"Katie," she said as soon as her sister picked up. "You at home?"

"Well, duh. This book isn't going to finish itself is it? Can't keep all my adoring fans waiting."

Emily snorted. Katie couldn't write for shit, but her publisher loved her 'marketability', which Emily believed was code for 'sex appeal'. Half the guys who went to her book signings left with blood noses from overexposure to cleavage.

"Well stay there," Emily told her. "Naom…Detective Campbell just called and told me she's coming over. I don't know why, but she sounded really serious about something."

"Ugh, that crazy blonde bitch. Totally ruined my manicure that night," Katie snarled.

Emily rolled her eyes. "She didn't _ask _you to use her face as a scratching post, Katie. And I know what you're like about cops but _try _and be nice, okay? She's actually alright, you know."

"Whatever. Just come back soon, yeah? I don't wanna be stuck entertaining her all by myself." She hung up.

Naomi still hadn't arrived by the time Emily pulled into the driveway. She hurried into the house with a sarcastic wave at the ever watchful Sherlock in his silver sedan, still feeling a little uneasy from Naomi's call. Katie was typing away furiously at her laptop, her tongue sticking out between her teeth and her brow furrowed in concentration. It was a weird look on her – like seeing a sober Lindsay Lohan or a non-trashy Paris Hilton.

"Katie, what the fuck?" Emily asked, picking a leopard print bra up off the sofa and chucking it at her twin. "Did you get naked in here last night?" she wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Oh god. _That's _what all the banging and the howling was?"

Katie looked up from her work, a filthy smile stealing over her face. "Oh yeah, best fucking shag I've had in a while. Might call him up for round two tonight. Hey, he has a brother, you know. Want me to set something up for you, Emsy?" Katie looked at her excitedly. It was like they were back in college, Katie trying to set her 'loser' sister up with every single one of Danny's gross gorilla mates.

"No, I really don't," Emily said tersely. Katie shrugged, disappointed. They'd had this conversation countless times since Freddie's death, and it always ended the same way. Emily knew Katie was just looking out for her in her special Katie Fitch kind of way, but she'd made the mistake of giving her heart to someone once before, and fate had tossed it around and ripped it to fucking shreds.

She wasn't going to let anyone near what was left of it now.

"Christ. Here we go," Katie muttered as the doorbell rang. She flounced off to the bathroom in a flurry of leopard print and irritation, leaving Emily to get the door.

Naomi was standing there looking effortlessly gorgeous in a black trench coat, her pale skin flushed with cold and her straight blonde hair messy from the wind. Emily felt her smile falter as the detective greeted her with a curt nod and swept past her into the house. She looked like she'd aged impossibly overnight, her mouth turned down at the corners and a faint frown line just visible between her brows. The fire that usually danced in those amazingly blue eyes was gone, and Emily realised with a pang just how unsure and defeated her friend looked without it.

"Where's Katie?" Naomi asked, still not smiling as she looked around the room.

"She's in the bathroom. Uh…have a seat." Emily gestured awkwardly at the sofa, feeling inexplicably nervous. That conversation last night must have shaken her more than she'd realised because she found herself suddenly speechless, the blonde's cool demeanour doing nothing to ease her discomfort. _What the hell's going on, have I done something wrong? Why won't she even look at me?_

"You left something on the sofa, Ems." Naomi's quiet voice broke the tension-filled silence as she lifted up a cushion to sit. Emily was so relieved to hear the renewed use of Naomi's cute little nickname for her that she didn't immediately register what the blonde was pointing at. She recognised it a split second too late as Naomi leaned down to pick it up, blue eyes widening as she realised what she was holding. It was the matching g-string to Katie's leopard print bra, and Emily found herself blushing furiously from the roots of her hair down as she and Naomi both stared at the piece of clothing in the blonde's hand.

"Wuh…I…that's not mine. Katie's. I…it's Katie's. I wouldn't-"

"Oh, of course. I can't really see you wearing…I mean….not that you're not…'cos you definitely…you know…" Naomi turned beet red as blue eyes darted from Emily to the g-string and back again.

"What the fuck?" Katie suddenly reappeared. Emily had never been more happy to see her sister as two pairs of eyes suddenly snapped over towards the older Fitch twin.

Naomi must have realised she was still holding the underwear because she dropped it quickly as if she'd been burnt. "Katie." She cleared her throat and sat down, her cheeks still slightly pink.

"Well this is peachy." Katie sauntered over, completely unfazed. "So what do you want, _detective_?"

Naomi leaned forward, all icy composure again and looking so serious that even Katie lost her cockiness. "I'm here about the Butcher case, Katie. I'm afraid we've found another body. The victim was found wearing a red wig, which we believe the killer forced her to do. We found this-" she took an evidence bag out of her pocket. "-next to the body."

Emily leaned forward to look at what was inside it, a chill running down her spine.

"That's the cover of one of my books," Katie breathed, her face paper white. Naomi nodded grimly. Emily gasped and reached blindly for her twin's hand, only slightly reassured when she felt Katie squeeze back faintly.

"I…think it's clear that the Butcher's next target is you, Katie," Naomi said. "I'm going to ask you not to leave this house until he's caught, and there'll be increased police protection all around the property. If you choose, we can also arrange for you to be moved to a safehouse."

Katie shook her head fiercely, her eyes still wide with shock. "N-no…I'll stay here. I'm just…oh god. How did he…? That son of a bitch! _Fuck!_" She left the room, shaking with shock and anger.

Emily closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself. _No. No. Not Katie too._

"Em…" Naomi got up and hesitated before walking over. "I really don't want you to leave the house either. He's smart and it's unlikely, but if the killer somehow makes a mistake and gets you mixed up with your sister…" her breath caught in her throat and she looked away.

"I can't do that, Naomi. I don't care if you get people to tail me everywhere I go, but I'm not staying at home and putting my whole fucking life on hold for that psycho. I'm not going to give him that."

Their eyes met and Naomi looked like she wanted to argue, but Emily just looked at her defiantly, her jaw set. Finally the blonde sighed and said, "Okay….but please, _please _tell me you'll watch yourself, alright Em? This guy…he's capable of anything. I've seen what he can do. I don't want him anywhere near you…or Katie."

"It was…bad…wasn't it? The murder this morning?" Emily asked, but she knew the answer already – she'd seen it in Naomi's eyes the moment she'd walked in the door.

Naomi nodded, her fists clenched. Emily could almost see the horror swirling in the depths of those crystal blue eyes. She stepped forward blindly, suddenly desperate for a hug, for _something_, but Naomi stumbled back, her cheeks tinged with pink again.

"I-I've got to get back to the station. Cook's waiting." She turned abruptly and headed for the door.

"Naomi…." The blonde stopped, one hand on the door handle. "Thanks for, you know, bothering to come over and tell us about this in person. I know you didn't have to. You could've just made a call, but you didn't."

"Just doing my job," Naomi mumbled to the floor.

Emily wished she'd look at her. "'Kay. Well…thanks anyway."

Naomi simply nodded, opening the door and stepping out into the street, her hands buried in her pockets again as she started towards her car. Emily was about to shut the door when the blonde suddenly turned to look at her, the fire back in her eyes.

"I'm not going to let _anything _happen to someone you love again, Ems. I promise, okay?"

Emily nodded, felt her world right itself a little, and tried to believe her.

* * *

Half an hour later she was standing outside Katie's room, knocking tentatively on the door. "Katie?" she called. "You okay?"

"Would you be fucking okay if you found out some psycho serial killer wants to slit your fucking throat?"

"I…"

"Rhetorical fucking question, Em. But I'm not going to sit at home like some stupid little mouse hiding in its hole. I'll get that murdering asshole before he gets me."

"What the fuck are you talking about, Katie? You're going after him? What the fuck are you going to do, hit him with your shoe? The cops will get him, Katie, it'll be okay!"

"Yeah, cos they've been doing such a brilliant job so far, haven't they? He murdered _six _people, Em! I'm not going to be the seventh and make it easy for him by lying down and waiting for him to get me while the police fuck around doing nothing. I almost caught him at the warehouse, and I'm going to fucking find that sick little worm again this time!"

"You _fucked everything up_ at the warehouse, Katie! You got that man killed! Do you want to get_ yourself_ killed this time? Is that what you want? I…I know you're only talking like this now because you're panicking and you're fucking scared. Well I am too, Katie. I'm fucking _terrified. _I'mterrified thatyou're going to do something stupid and get yourself _murdered._ Do you realise what that would fucking do to me, Katie? I'd _die _if something happened to you, okay?" Her voice broke.

The door opened and suddenly Katie was there, pulling her into a crushing hug. "I'm sorry," she whispered as Emily fell apart and sobbed into her shoulder. "I was just venting, okay Emsy? I won't do anything stupid, alright? _Katie sham. Katie sham._" Emily nodded and pulled away, wiping the tears from her face.

"Just…let the police do their job, okay? I trust Naomi. She's not going to stop until she catches this guy," Emily said. But she couldn't suppress a shiver as she remembered that hollow look in the blonde's eye; the one that expressed so clearly the extent of the horror she'd seen today, and now the monster responsible for that was after _her sister_. Suddenly, she needed to be alone - she'd always found a strange kind of comfort in solitude, something that had only intensified after what everything that had happened two years ago. "I'm going to go get cleaned up."

She decided to take a bath, the piping hot water chasing some of the exhaustion from her mind and her body. She got out an hour later, felt better, calmer. She looked out the window and saw that another two unmarked cars were now parked along their street. _Safe_. Just like Naomi had promised her.

"Katie?" she knocked on her sister's door again, thinking she should apologise for losing it earlier. There was no response. "Katie?"

She checked every room in the house, trying not to panic as she called Katie's name again and again to no response. Finally she burst out the front door, scanning the street desperately for any sign of her twin. An unfamiliar officer was out of his car like a shot, ushering her back into the house.

"You really can't leave the house, Miss Fitch. I thought the detective made it clear that it's for your own safety."

"What? No I wasn't going anywhere, I was just looking for Katie. I can't find her anywhere and-" she broke off as the officer suddenly turned white.

"You…you're Emily?" he asked, sweat beading his forehead. Emily felt a wave of pure dread wash over her.

"Where is she?" she asked with a deadly calm she did not feel. "Where's my sister?"

"I…she told us she was you, and that she was just going to the supermarket to get a few things. But don't worry Miss Fitch, two of the officers went with her, just to be safe. I-I'll call them now." He spoke rapidly into the dispatcher at his shoulder. The response was staticky, jumbled, but Emily heard enough. Just three words.

"We lost her."

The officer looked at her, panic-stricken, but Emily shut him up with a furious glare before he could even open his mouth. With trembling hands she dialled Katie's number, each ring sounding amplified, distorted in her head. Relief flooded through her as the phone was finally picked up.

"Katie Fitch's phone," a male voice sang at the other end of the line. Emily sank to the floor, the phone falling from her nerveless grasp.

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**Eeeek I'm sorry, okay? Put those knives and pitchforks (and vases?) down, I'll stop with the cliffhangers next chapter, promise :) This one actually wasn't going to be a cliffhanger originally but I realised it was waaaay too long if I included the next bit so you see I had no choice...sixseatertable as mummy Fitch would say. Anyway I know you all hate me right now but please leave a review, they really make my day :D Thanks for reading!  
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	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hello my luverly readers, how would you like an update? I can...fry it, poach it, scramble it, do it anyway you like :) Well...not really, but still. **

**Aaanyway, sorry**** if this chapter's a bit all over the place and the beginning's kinda draggy, I felt like I was just going on and on and on but not really saying anything important - sort of like I'm doing now - so if you wanna know what the f*ck I did to Katie then feel free to just skip the useless stuff and go straight to the end. I won't judge you. Really.  
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**Right, shutting up now.  
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"You alright, blondie?" Cook raised his eyebrows at Naomi.

"Fine."

"It wasn't your fault, you know."

Naomi tightened her grip on the steering wheel.

"Namio-"

"Fucking…_what_, Cook? What do you want me to say? It was my fucking _job _to keep Katie safe and I didn't do it, alright? I fucked up! I made a promise that I couldn't even keep for two fucking hours and now how the hell am I supposed to look Emily in the eye and tell her that we're going to find that son of a bitch before he _kills_ _her sister_? Jesus!" Naomi floored the accelerator, the tyres of the police cruiser screeching in protest against the asphalt. Cook gave a yelp as he was thrown back in his seat, wisely deciding not to pursue the conversation any further as Naomi kept her steely blue eyes trained on the road. They reached the twins' house in record time, knowing it was vital to start from there and find out every single thing Katie had said or done before she'd left the house. They needed to find out where she'd been headed, what insanity could have possibly driven her to leave the safety of her house when Bristol's worst serial killer had just painted a glaring red target on her back in someone else's blood, with someone else's life.

And to do that they'd have to talk to Emily. Emily, who'd already suffered through worse things than anybody should have to endure in a lifetime, and who, in yet another horrible twist of fate, now had to face the fact that her sister was in the hands of a twisted, murdering psychopath. It was cruel, and it was desperately unfair, and Naomi was fucking terrified that this would be the straw that finally broke the camel's back. No one, not even strong and beautiful redheads, could bounce back after so many critical blows. Naomi had heard of the connection that supposedly existed between twins – an uncanny ability to empathise, to understand, to _feel _what the other was going through in moments of distress.

She had seen enough of the Butcher's work to hope now, for Emily's sake, that that connection was just a myth.

They got out of the car and Cook nodded at Naomi to go ahead as he went to ream the protective detail a collective new arsehole for letting Katie get away. An officer let Naomi into the house and pointed Emily's room out to her. Its closed door was like a furious stop sign, a solid oak barrier between the redhead and the cruel, merciless world outside. A world that had done nothing but hurt her and break her again and again, and Naomi's heart clenched at the thought that _she _was one of the villains who'd let Emily down, offered her false hope when it really hadn't been her place to give. She took a deep breath and lifted her knuckles to the door. Hesitated for a beat.

_Fucking hell Naomi, pull yourself together. You have to be strong. Confident. Solid as a fucking rock. This isn't about you and Emily, it's about _Katie_. It's about doing your fucking _job. _So get in there and get the information you need and go catch a fucking murderer. _

She knocked. There was no response, and she waited a moment before quietly opening the door. It was dark inside, the curtains tightly shut against the light outside. Emily was sitting on the bed, legs drawn protectively up to her chest, her head buried between her knees. She was rocking herself back and forth like a small and terrified child, a picture of helpless defeat.

To hell with the job and staying objective_ - _Naomi was with her in a heartbeat, kneeling beside the bed, words of comfort dying in her throat as Emily suddenly gave a harsh dry sob that wracked her entire body and made Naomi take a sharp breath of her own. She felt a jolt inside her chest as she placed a comforting hand over Emily's. The redhead's skin was icy cold.

"Em," Naomi whispered. Emily whimpered and shook her head, curling herself up into an even tighter ball. "Em…I need you to listen to me, okay? We're going to catch this guy. We're going to stop him, and we're going to get Katie safely back here to you, alright? Nothing's going to happen to her, I promise. I just need you to help us out a bit – can you do that, Ems?" Naomi tightened her hold on Emily's hand, hating herself for making even more promises she wasn't sure she could keep. Emily didn't respond, just rocked herself harder and Naomi wondered if she'd heard a single word she'd just said.

"Emily." Naomi placed a gentle hand on either side of the redhead's face, tilting it up so she was suddenly looking into glistening, tear-filled eyes. Emily drew a shuddering breath, her lips trembling, but she held Naomi's gaze unflinchingly. "You're going to help us find Katie, okay? I need you to tell me _anything _that might help us find out where she was going when she left the house. We need to find out where she was going when she was…picked up."

Emily let out another choking sob. "I-I don't know where she was going. She _promised _me she wasn't going to leave the house. She told me she wasn't going to do anything stupid, and I fucking believed her like a stupid little kid. I believed her when I shouldn't have let her out of my fucking sight. He's going to kill her, Naomi. He's going to kill her like he did with all those other people and it'll be my fault. _All my fucking fault_." She let out a groan like a wounded animal, the sound making Naomi want to wrap her arms around the redhead's shaking body and just _hold_ her until this fucking nightmare was all over. She resisted the urge. The nightmare ended _now. _

No more tears.

"How could it have been your fault, Em? She's your sister, of course you believed her! She loves you, Ems, she would've kept her promise but something must have happened to make her break it. There must be a reason why she'd leave-"

"Oh God. She must've found something."

"What do you mean?"

"She…she told me she was going to get the killer before he got her. She must've found something about him. That's why she went and…oh god, oh god, oh god…"

"She went _after_ him? Jesus, Katie…" Naomi breathed. Surely even Katie fucking Fitch wasn't stupid enough to do something like that, but now was not the moment to dwell on it. Time was sprinting away from them - time that Katie really didn't have. "Okay. Okay. Em, we'll need to look through Katie's notes and her computer, alright?"

"Anything. Anything. Just find her. _Please." _

Naomi nodded and brushed a strand of hair out of Emily's eyes. "I promise."

* * *

Katie's computer was password-protected, just as they'd expected. It was another frustrating hurdle that was taking precious time to clear as they waited for the IT people to arrive. Cook and Naomi flipped feverishly through Katie's notes, looking for anything that might tell them what she'd discovered but so far, nothing.

"Fuck," Cook growled in frustration, tossing aside yet another page of barely legible notes. "There's fuck-all here, blondie. We're wasting our time. I say we go back over that last crime scene, see if we missed something. A hair, a fibre, anything."

"No, no. He's way too careful for that. There's got to be something here, unless Katie took it with her when she left." Naomi ran a hand raggedly through her hair.

"Look, how do you even know for sure that she did find something? Because that's what Emily said?" Cook looked at her shrewdly, as usual knowing exactly what was going on inside her head. Naomi hated him for it. "You _want _to believe that Katie had a good reason for lying to Emily so you've convinced yourself that it's true. We could be looking for clues that aren't even here, Naomikins. Maybe Katie really did need to go to the supermarket. Or she was just going to see her boyfriend or something. Nothing like a good shag to-"

"Jesus, Cook, are you fucking_ listening_ to yourself? It's been almost a whole fucking hour since that monster answered Katie's phone and that's one hour where he could've done whatever the fuck he wanted to her! So excuse me for _wanting to believe _that there's something here that'll help us find them before he carves her up like a fucking Christmas turkey."

They glared at each other stubbornly, the tension thick as cold custard. A nervous sounding cough from the doorway broke the standoff and they turned to see two ferrety-looking guys hovering there uncertainly. Ah, the IT people. Naomi's first, absurd thought was that they looked exactly like Sheldon and Leonard from the Big Bang Theory. _Fuck's sake_. Cook blew out a breath and raised his hands in submission, gesturing them towards the computer with a mock bow.

_Please, god, let them find something. Please. _Naomi really didn't have a sodding clue where else they could look if the computer didn't turn anything up. They hadn't found anything useful from going through Katie's phone records except that the person she called most often – one Danny _G_uillermo – hadn't seen Katie in weeks, played for the Bristol Rovers, and was an arrogant arsehole to boot.

"Check her email," Cook said tersely to the techs. "She's a writer, so she should have a public one where she gets all the emails about her books or whatever. We'll start from there. Maybe she got a tip from someone."

"Nothing." The guy who looked like Sheldon sighed. "Oh wait, hold on. There's something here…" Naomi had never seen anyone's fingers move so damn fast. "It's an email that was received about two hours ago, but it's been deleted. Technically it's still on the computer but I can't open it."

"Two hours….that's about when Katie left the house! Is there _any _way you can open it?" Naomi gripped the back of the chair, suddenly feeling energised again. _We'll get you, you son of a bitch._

"Hmm. Looks like the email was deleted by a virus that was attached to it, and not by the user. That complicates things, but we'll get it open."

_Come on come on come on_. It was frustrating, watching and waiting while the two techies did whatever they had to do with Katie's computer. Cook was pacing the room and cracking his knuckles loudly, rearing for action just like Naomi was. They were horribly aware of the time, and just how little of it might be left. If it wasn't already too late.

"Gotcha!" Leonard hit a key with a triumphant flourish and an email popped up on screen.

_Dear Miss Fitch,_

_My name is Fiona Lopez. I know you've been doing a lot of research into the murders that have been happening in Bristol over the past year. I watched the news this morning and they said they've found another body but they still don't know who it belongs to. I think the victim is my daughter. A mother just…knows…these things. Lucy hasn't been home in five days. She called me two nights ago to tell me she met a man and they were going travelling somewhere. My Lucy would never, ever do that. This man killed her, Miss Fitch. The reason why I contacted you is because Lucy gave me a description of the man which I think will be very helpful. I've been to your website and read all your books and I know that if anyone can help my daughter find justice, it's you. I'm sorry to bother you, but would you be able to come meet me at home to talk about this in person? It's just that Lucy left a box of things in her room that might also be useful but I cannot look at them through anything but a grieving mother's eyes. I am sorry to bother you but my family and I are here illegally so we cannot even ask the police for help and I really didn't know where else to turn. I have attached my address to this email. Please, please come around when you have the time. _

_Fiona Lopez_

"I've checked the sender's email address," one of the techs said into the stunned silence that followed. "It was created yesterday and deleted right after this email was sent. My guess? Mrs. Lopez and her daughter Lucy don't exist."

Naomi bit back a sarcastic retort. "Shit," she spat instead. "The bastard planned all this. He made sure Katie was shit scared and running high on adrenaline from the last murder, and then he knew exactly how to use that to draw her out. She played right the fuck into his hands."

"Alright let's get out of here," Cook said through gritted teeth, scribbling the address down. "No fucking way we're letting the bastard go this time, Blondie. We'll get him."

"I'm coming with you," a quiet voice said from the doorway. Emily was standing there in her oversized jumper and bare feet, her delicate face pale but resolute. "I can't stay here. It's killing me. I need to be there when you…when you find her." She looked directly at Naomi, brown eyes fierce and determined.

The way Emily was looking at her, Naomi almost opened her mouth automatically to just say yes, to promise the redhead anything and everything she wanted. It seemed to be her body's default setting when it came to Emily Fitch.

But not this time.

"No," she said gently but firmly. "You know we can't let you do that, Emily. I promise you we'll let you know as soon as we find her though, okay? The second we get her back. And we will. Whatever it takes."

* * *

The address led her and Cook to an old two-storey house in a quiet, dreary sort of neighbourhood. The paint was peeling off the wooden walls and the whole building creaked and groaned, looking like one good gust of wind would knock it over like a house of cards. The windows were dark, the upper ones fitted with security bars. Overgrown garden, shingles coming off the roof. Naomi fought the urge to roll her eyes. The killer really couldn't have picked a creepier, more depressing looking place.

"Ready, Naomikins?" Cook asked, looking at her with his trademark grin. They bumped fists. Tradition.

Naomi winked at him and they got out of the car and approached the house, guns drawn. No time to wait for backup. They had the element of surprise here – the killer thought he'd gotten rid of all traces of that email and _hopefully _it meant that he wasn't expecting anyone anytime soon. Which meant Katie was probably still alive. What the killer might be doing to her though…Naomi shut that thought down as soon as it appeared. She needed to be a hundred percent focused on getting Katie out _alive_.

Cook indicated that he was going round the back of the house. Naomi nodded and kept going up the long, winding driveway by herself. She stopped dead when she reached the front door, her heart leaping into her throat. A red light was blinking at her just above the door. A camera. He knew they were here. The last time the Butcher had been interrupted with a victim, he'd killed him. _Oh no you fucking don't. Not this time you bastard. _

Naomi squared up to the splintery-looking door, ready to kick it down but before she could, it crashed open from the inside and a heavyset man barrelled into her, knocking her clean off her feet. It literally felt like being hit by a bus. She landed with a painful thud, winded and disorientated from the impact, but picked herself up immediately and took off after the man.

"Cook!" she yelled over her shoulder as she sprinted down the driveway. Her gun was still in her hand, but there was no way she was going to fire it in a suburban street like this. The killer had a good head start on her and she was still winded and dizzy as fuck, but she was going to get this guy if it fucking killed her.

_Gotcha_. He'd run straight into a tunnel, complete with flickering lights and graffiti on the walls – a solid dead end if Cook had the brains to cut him off on the other side in the car.

"Police! Freeze!" she yelled, her voice echoing strangely in the tunnel. The arsehole kept running. Naomi put on an extra spurt of speed, gritting her teeth against the burn in her thighs and lungs. Thank fuck this guy seemed to be even less fit than bloody Cook. With a final desperate lunge, Naomi smashed into him from behind and slammed his face against the tunnel wall. He was big, struggling furiously as she grappled with the cuffs at her belt. _Where the fuck are you, Cook?_

Just as she managed to free the cuffs, the man wrenched himself out of her grasp and reached for something in the inside pocket of his jacket. Naomi noticed the movement a split second too late, jumping backwards and raising her gun to fire but the man leapt at her, a large hunting knife in his hand and a horrible leer on his face.

Pain. White hot. All the way across her lower abdomen – a blazing trail of pain as the knife cut through her shirt and sliced open the skin beneath. It hurt like a bitch– way more than a surface wound like that should. Poison on the blade? You son of a bitch. Her brain was already shutting itself down from the pain. Handing in its resignation in a crisp white envelope._ No no no no. Focus dammit, Naomi! _ But her mind was clouding, all she could see was red. Blood? No. Something else entirely. A soft red. A nice red. A red that smelled like…summer. How odd.

_Emily. _

Her eyes snapped open. The guy stumbled back in shock and Naomi kicked the knife out of his hands and socked him in the jaw with everything she had before collapsing against the wall, clutching at the bleeding gash in her belly. So much fucking blood. He took off. Naomi heard the distant sound of a car door slamming shut. Cook. _You're fucked, you miserable arsehole. No way you're getting past the Cookie monster. _She smiled dizzily and watched through slitted eyes as Cook jumped out of the car at the far end of the tunnel and ran straight at the killer, tackling him to the ground and whacking him in the head with the butt of his gun. The sound of the cuffs snapping shut echoed through the tunnel.

_It's over. All over. But wait…. _She closed her eyes, taking quick, shallow breaths as the sweat poured down her face. Christ, what was happening? Every part of her body was in blind fucking agony but she couldn't feel her fingers or toes anymore. _No. That's not important right now. Katie. Have to get Katie out…._She tried to stand. Her body responded with an incredulous _bitch, you've got to be kidding me. _Okay. Staying put then. That was alright with her. Now if only everything would stop fucking _hurting,_ she could so just go to sleep right here.

Suddenly Cook's face was swimming in front of her. His mouth was moving but she couldn't hear anything. Strange.

"…coming! You can't sleep now, just keep looking at me alright, blondie? That's it. Keep those gorgeous eyes open for the cookie monster, okay? We got him. Stay with me, we've still got to interview him together, yeah? And they'll want to take our pictures for all the papers and we're going to be fucking famous…you and me taking the world by storm, remember when we said we'd do that someday, Naomikins? But you've got to stay with me, alright?"

Some foggy part of Naomi's brain realised that he was crying, actually fucking crying, and the idea was so absurd that she laughed. Tried to, anyway. It came out more like a pained chuckle but Cook smiled at it and wiped roughly at his eyes. All good again. Hold on. She was forgetting something.

"Katie," she choked.

"She's fine, she's fine. That's why…that's why it took me so fucking long to get to you." His voice cracked. "I went inside the house first, to look. She's well shook up but he hadn't done anything to her yet. Just tied her up in a creepy as fuck room with all these photos and articles and jars of…stuff. But we saved her, blondie. You kept your promise." He gave her a weak smile. She grinned back, tried to lift her hand but the numbness had spread to her arms. He lifted it for her and tapped their knuckles together.

Tradition.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hey guys, sorry this chapter's taken me a bit longer than I thought it would but I got walloped with writer's block about halfway through and decided to start all over again which probably wasn't the smartest thing. Anyway I think I told a few of you that there would be some actual naomily goin' on this chapter and that _was _the plan but...my mind has a mind of its own apparently and came up with this instead. Hmm.  
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**Also realised I haven't said this yet but thanks to everyone who's left an anonymous review! You guys are awesome :D**

**anyway this chapter's quite a bit longer than my other ones so deep breaths everyone here we go...**

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Emily wanted to scream. As she paced the room in nervous frustration, practically wearing a hole right through the carpet to the floorboards beneath, she decided that there was nothing in the entire English language she hated more right now than the word _wait. _Waiting for news, waiting for a call, waiting for someone to burst in through the door and tell her that Katie had been found alive and safe and that everything was going to be okay again.

Waiting desperately for something to just _happen _already, because the waiting and the not knowing was fucking killing her.

It had been exactly two hours, thirty seven minutes and…forty three… seconds since the police had found that email on Katie's computer. The longest two hours, thirty seven minutes and forty three seconds of Emily's life. Her nerves were frayed, her nails bitten to the quick, her hair a tangled mess from the way she'd been dragging her hands through it as she paced. And waited.

It's a strange thing, how time seems to distort itself when you're waiting for news that could destroy your entire world in a second. It draws and stretches itself out like a giant rubber band, so that the seconds start to feel like minutes, the minutes like hours, the hours like days, and all it does is give you more space to mess with your own head, to torment yourself with endless scenarios and possibilities just to try and fill the silence as you wait and wait and wait for the knife to drop.

_Stop it, fucking stop! _Emily screamed at herself as her tortured brain conjured up yet another image of what sick, twisted things the killer might be doing to Katie at that very moment. What he might _already_ have done to her. Her stomach had somehow twisted itself into knots the size of tennis balls and she could feel them jolting around inside her with every step she took. She couldn't shake the menacing feeling that something had gone horribly wrong with the rescue, something terrible had happened because really why else would it be taking so fucking _long_?She stopped her frantic pacing and leaned against the wall, taking deep calming breaths. _It's okay. It'll be okay._ She let her eyelids drift closed. Remembered light blue eyes looking down at her with complete and absolute conviction – devotion, almost. _Whatever it takes, _Naomi had promised her.

The knots loosened a little.

Her phone rang. Emily jumped and snatched it out of her pocket, almost dropping it in the process. Katie. _Oh god oh god oh god…_if she answered it and heard _that _voice again…

"K-katie?"

"Emsy, it's me, I'm okay. I'm okay. They got him, Em."

Emily's knees buckled and she slid slowly down the wall, shaking uncontrollably with pure, dizzying relief.

"He…he didn't hurt you?" she choked.

"No. Not…not physically anyway." Emily heard the shudder in her twin's voice. "I-I'm at the station now. They need me to give a statement."

"Can't that wait?" Emily asked angrily. Katie had just been through the worst kind of hell imaginable - she should've been in a fucking hospital, not in an interview room reliving what that bastard had done to her.

"No, they said it's best if I do it when everything's still…fresh." Katie said, faltering on the last word. _Of fucking course. _The cops didn't give a shit about Katie. All they wanted was an airtight case so they could put this whole Bristol Butcher nightmare behind them. If that meant they had to drag Katie through the whole fucking ordeal again, then that was her problem as far as they were concerned. It pissed Emily off, but she also felt…betrayed, somehow. Because somewhere in between all those comforting words and reassuring looks Naomi had given her, and the way she'd gripped Emily's hand so _tightly _in her room before, she'd managed to convince herself that the blonde actually did care about Katie. About _her. _

And Naomi had sounded like she'd really fucking meant it when she'd told her she'd call as soon as there was news. _Well you kept _that_ promise didn't you, detective? Would've really sucked if I'd had to wait three fucking hours to find out if my sister was _dead_ or not. You really did a good job of pretending to give a shit, didn't you? _

Emily knew she didn't have a right to be so angry. Or…hurt. The rational part of her knew that Naomi had just been doing her job. The blonde had said so herself. So it was absurd to think that Naomi had been seeing her as a _friend_, as something more than just the sister of a victim, and Emily had been an idiot to believe that she had.

"Okay. I'm coming over right now," she said furiously. "You don't have to say anything to them, Katie. You need rest. They can't fucking keep you there, alright? If they want their statement, they can fucking wait for it."

"Em, there's something I-"

Emily hung up. She was getting Katie the hell out of there, _now._

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Katie was waiting for her in one of those little plastic chairs near the front desk, looking incredibly pale and jumpy. Her face was streaked with black where her mascara had run and she was shaking like mad under the thin blanket someone had thrown around her shoulders, but aside from a vivid purple bruise blossoming on her temple, there seemed to be no other injuries.

She jumped up as soon as she saw Emily striding towards her and they collided in a fierce Fitch hug in the middle of the room, ignoring the crap out of all the looks they were attracting from everyone else.

"You idiot Katie," Emily whispered again and again. "You fucking idiot."

"I know. I know." Katie gave a watery chuckle. "I'm sorry."

Emily shook her head and gave her a final squeeze before pulling away. "We're getting out of here. You need to get to a hospital."

"I'm okay, Emsy. Seriously. I just want to go home. But I need to tell you-"

Ma'am, I'm afraid you can't leave now," an unfamiliar detective suddenly appeared, placing a hand on Katie's shoulder. Her whole body tensed up, her face twitching horribly at the contact. Emily didn't miss it.

"Hey! Back the hell off!" she snarled furiously, pulling Katie away. "We're leaving. My sister's not going to talk to you until she's ready. And you can tell that to _detective Campbell_ when you see her, too."

His whole face darkened, but it was Katie who spoke first. "Em, I've been trying to tell you." Her voice shook. "She…she's been taken to the hospital. She was running after him and…he got her with his knife. I saw the ambulance. And b-blood. There was a lot of it, Em. I don't…I'm sorry, Emsy."

Emily froze, all anger deserting her. _No. No. Katie's in shock. She doesn't know what she's saying. Naomi had a gun. How could he get close enough to hurt her with a knife? _

She waited for the other detective to tell her it wasn't true, that Naomi was just taking a well-earned break somewhere, but the grim look on his face confirmed everything Katie had just told her.

"I…"

"You should go see her," Katie said softly. "I'm gonna stay and give my statement. I want to help nail that bastard's arse to the wall. And I've already called Danny, he's on his way over. He'll take me home when I'm done. You should get to the hospital in case…you know…"

Emily felt something clench like an iron fist around her heart. "Right," she said automatically. "I…I'll just wait with you until Danny gets here then."

Time was playing that horrible trick on her again and it felt like hours and hours before Katie's on again off again boyfriend finally arrived in his ridiculous yellow car. Emily gave Katie a quick hug, threatened to chop Danny's dick off if he didn't take her sister straight home and watch her like a hawk after the police were done with her, and almost flew out the door to get to her car.

_She's okay. It's not as bad as Katie said. Just a bit of blood, right? Just a nick. A few stitches, that's all she needs. She's probably driven all the doctors and nurses crazy and called them all wankers for not letting her get out already. She's okay. Please, please let her be okay. _

But a part of her knew, from the look that had been on Katie's face, that it wasn't okay. That Naomi couldn't possibly be saying those things because she was lying unconscious somewhere with a critical, life-threatening injury.

_Whatever it takes…_

It felt like a jackhammer was pounding away against Emily's ribcage as she skidded her car into a spot in the hospital parking lot, trying not to be disturbed by the fact that the building she was entering now was full of people who were sick, or dying, or both. _No. Really not helpful, Ems. _She choked back a sob. Naomi was the only one who ever called her that.

"I-I'm looking for Naomi Campbell," she said breathlessly to the nurse at the desk.

"Are you family?"

"A friend. Please. I…I really need to see her."

"Naomi Campbell…" the nurse checked her computer. "I'm afraid she's undergoing emergency surgery right now. You'll have to wait for the surgeon if you want to find out her condition." She gave Emily the floor and number of the operating theatre.

Emily felt the bile rise up in her throat as she made her way to the place where they were trying to save Naomi's life. She hated hospitals. The stark white walls, the cheap pot plants, the doctors with their cold hands and even colder voices. If Naomi didn't make it…

She darted out of the elevator once it had reached her floor, immediately spotting Cook sitting on a chair opposite the theatre door, his head bowed. He was the only one there.

"Detective."

He raised his head. His eyes were red and he looked as hopeless and lost as Emily had felt before, waiting for news on Katie.

"What you doing here, Emilio?"

She was hurt that he even had to ask.

"How is she?"

"I…I don't know." He looked devastated as the words left his mouth. "She lost a lot of blood. And there was some kind of…toxin…on the knife. They don't know what it was but it really fucking hurt her, messed up her insides. They don't know if they can..." he broke off, buried his face in his hands.

Emily sank into a chair beside him. She didn't know what to say. Cook's shoulders were shaking and she could almost see the fear coming off of him in waves. It was infectious. She wondered where the hell Naomi's family was. Where Jackie was. It wasn't fair that Naomi was in _there _and the only people who seemed to care how brave she'd been, how brave she was _being_, were a colleague and a lawyer she'd barely known for a month. It sounded so clinical when she thought of it like that. But since that night at Effy's party, Emily had come to see her as a really fucking good friend and the thought of losing her now…

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. Fucking waiting again, while the red surgery light blinked obnoxiously down at them. She wondered what was happening inside that room. Were they still trying to find out what the poison was? Or had they given up on that and were now just trying to stop it from spreading to Naomi's brain, to her heart? And even if they managed that, how much of her friend would be left permanently damaged from all this? Would she still be able to walk? To speak? Would she still be able to smile in that funny Naomi Campbell way, where she'd look at you out of the corner of her eye with just the hint of a smirk and it would be enough to put a grin on your face for the rest of the day? What if the poison destroyed the sight in those brilliant azure eyes?

The wait felt impossibly long but finally, finally the red light switched off. Cook was on his feet immediately, all the colour draining from his face. The door opened and an exhausted looking surgeon emerged. Emily noted with horror the amount of blood on the front of his scrubs, on his sleeves. _Naomi's blood. _The doctor's mouth was moving. _Focus, dammit, Emily!_

"..in a critical condition – she's lost a lot of blood and we don't know for sure how far the toxin got before we managed to administer the antidote. I…think you should know that unfortunately her body was in such a weakened state already that it may not be able to cope at all with the shock of the operation. I suggest you notify any friends and family immediately because tonight will be critical." He paused as Cook gave a groan and Emily clapped her hands to her mouth. "The good news, though, is that if she makes it through the night, then every hour after that increases her chances of survival tenfold. We'll be taking her to the ICU now and you can go see her, but don't expect her to wake or respond until at least late tomorrow. Her body's been through a terrible amount of stress and will need that time just to recover the most basic functions."

He left them with a curt nod and a nurse offered to take them to the ICU. Emily steeled herself for what she'd see when they got there. She knew what to expect. She told herself she was ready for it.

But when they reached the ward the sight of Naomi lying there so pale and so _still_, surrounded by wires and tubes and monstrous looking machines, stole all the breath instantly from her lungs and she had to hold onto the doorframe just to stay upright. Because this frail, delicate person with the battered face, the white lips and the dull, lank hair couldn't possibly be the Naomi Campbell she knew.

_I saw her. I saw her just this morning, and she was fine. She smiled at me, she held my hand and looked at me like she'd tear down _empires _to get Katie back for me. And she did. She took on that monster and now she's in here fighting for her life and who the hell was I to tell myself she didn't fucking care?_

It hit her like a steam train, just like it had two years ago, how fucking _fragile _it all was. How quickly things could just fall apart and turn to dust.

How easy it was to die.

She walked shakily towards the bed, tenderly brushed a damp strand of hair off Naomi's forehead. Placed a gentle kiss there, because she really didn't know how else to tell the unconscious blonde how fucking grateful she was for everything she'd done. Christ, her skin was so pale, so cold.

"Why isn't anyone here?" Emily asked Cook, unable to keep the anger out of her voice. "Did you call anyone?"

"Just her mum. She's not even in Bristol right now. Went somewhere for a protest, but she's getting here as quick as she can. Namio doesn't have any other family and…I don't know any of her friends outside the station. I asked her mum to contact the ones she knows."

"What about her girlfriend?"

"I tried calling her too but her secretary told me she was in a meeting, and she's got some kind of function on tonight. Can't miss it, apparently." Emily heard the resentment in his voice. "I've told blondie so many times that they're just not right together but she's fucking stubborn. Always has been." He smiled sadly.

They fell silent. There was nothing to say. Nothing to do but wait. An hour ticked by. Emily half expected one of the machines to start beeping like crazy any second, but Naomi was fighting, holding on. At one point Emily fell into a fitful doze, one of Naomi's cold hands held tightly between her own. When she woke up, the room was full of people. Colleagues and old school friends, probably. She looked around and spotted a blonde woman with exhausted eyes and tear tracks running down her face. It had to be Naomi's mum. She gave her a small smile. There would be time for talking later. The hours dragged by and the machines continued to beep monotonously. Safely. Surely, the night was almost over.

Cook was the first to notice the light starting to creep in around the edges of the blinds. Most people had fallen asleep in their chairs, but woke up at the sound of his voice.

"Dawn," he croaked. A wave of relief seemed to sweep around the whole room. The hardest twelve hours were through. There were hugs and smiles and a few tears all around but Emily held onto Naomi's hand, as if letting go of her now would turn back time and she'd suddenly find herself waiting at the beginning of that long, awful night again.

The room brightened steadily and the tension lifted with each hour that passed. The doctor came in and checked charts and machines, left with a smile that made Emily's heart swell with hope. Maybe, just maybe, Naomi was going to make it through all this with nothing but a scar, and scars _always_ faded with time right?

People started leaving around midday, feeling that most of the danger had passed. They clapped Cook on the shoulder and hugged Mrs. Campbell as they left, but none of them seemed to know who Emily was. She wondered if all of them knew Jackie. Emily couldn't understand why Naomi's girlfriend still wasn't here - Cook had left six more messages for her over the night, and she hadn't returned any of his calls. Emily couldn't believe it. What kind of fucking function could be more important than your girlfriend's _life_?

The room slowly emptied as people left for lunch or work or to be with their families. Emily gave Naomi's hand a squeeze.

"I'll be right back," she said to Cook and Gina, her voice hoarse from lack of use. She needed to call Katie and make sure she was doing alright, and she also wanted to get something for Naomi. Emily knew from personal experience that waking up in a hospital was one of _the_ worst feelings in the world, and the only thing that had kept her going last time she'd been where Naomi was now were the piles of cards, flowers and little soft toys she'd found on her bedside table – gifts from her family and friends, telling her how much she was adored and appreciated and _loved_. Recovery was going to be long and painful for Naomi – no one was denying that – but every small sign that there were people who really fucking cared about her was going to go a long way.

Katie was asleep when Emily called, but Danny told her that apart from being way less bitchy and talkative than usual and having the odd nightmare, Katie had been coping remarkably well with what had happened to her.

But if Naomi hadn't got to her in time, would Katie have been the one lying in a coma in the hospital? Maybe even on a cold table in the morgue?

Fuck, the biggest get well card in the world couldn't possibly do justice to everything Emily wanted to say to Naomi right now. She didn't know what she could get that even came _close _to expressing how fucking grateful she was.

She finally found what she was looking for in a tiny flower shop opposite the hospital. An enormous bouquet of pure white lilies, so white that Emily's eyes were immediately drawn to them and all the other flowers just disappeared into a haze of irrelevant colour in the background. Naomi was a bit like that too. As soon as she walked into a room with her bright peroxide hair and that cool authority in her eyes, your attention was caught, and it was held. Somehow Emily just knew that if Naomi – hardened homicide detective – had a favourite flower, it would be the lily. This particular bouquet cost a fucking fortune but she bought it anyway.

Gina gave her a smile as Emily returned to Naomi's room with the flowers and two cups of coffee.

"Thank you," the older Campbell said, taking one. It was the first time Emily had heard her speak since she'd arrived at the hospital to see her daughter. "Detective Cook's been called away to help with the…case." She shuddered at the last word.

Emily wondered how many times Gina had been put in the position of fearing for her only child's life.

"So you must be Jackie, then? The girl my daughter's all butterflies and moonbeams about." Gina smiled softly at her. "I'm sorry we haven't met before now. Naomi did tell me you were always getting caught up in work and meetings and such."

Emily tried to hide her surprise. Five years and Naomi had never introduced Jackie to her own mother? "Um, actually I'm just a friend of Naomi's. Emily." She shook Gina's weathered hand. "It was my sister who was kidnapped. You probably saw it on the news. Naomi saved her and..."

Gina smiled sadly, stroking Naomi's pale cheek. "She's always been like that, you know. Jumping right into things, needing to be in the middle of the action. She's wanted to be a cop ever since she found out her dad was killed in the line of duty."

"He was a cop too?"

"Yeah, and a really fucking good one. He…died when Naomi was just three but it seems like she's inherited that drive that he had. See all these?" she lowered her head and showed Emily the white hairs growing among the blonde ones. "I get one for each time she chases some murderer down a dark alley without thinking about what the hell she's getting herself into. She's just…fearless, you know? It makes her a really good cop but a pretty shitty daughter and friend. That's why she hasn't really got that many friends, you know. I think she's just seen so many examples of the horrible things people do to each other that she tries really hard not to let anyone get too close now."

"Can't really blame her for that can we?" Emily gestured at Naomi's motionless body.

"Well I'm glad she opened up enough to let you in at least," Gina said, watching Emily put the flowers into a vase on the bedside table. "She's lucky to have you as a friend. And I'm…sorry about earlier. Thinking you were her girlfriend, I mean. "

Emily chuckled. "That's okay. I'm a lawyer, she's a cop. It would never work," she said teasingly. Gina smiled. They chatted for a while longer, but lapsed into silence again as the hours ticked by and Naomi showed no signs of stirring. Emily thought she saw her eyelids flutter once, but decided that it was just her own exhausted eyes playing tricks on her. Her stomach gave a loud grumble at about half past five, reminding her that she'd barely had anything to eat in almost two days. Gina grinned at her and shooed her off to get some food from the cafeteria downstairs.

She got herself a sandwich that tasted like it had been sitting there for a week but she was so hungry that she scoffed it down anyway and bought another. She got one for Gina too, even though she knew it wouldn't be touched until Naomi was awake and they knew she was completely in the clear. It was almost six now. Emily didn't think she'd be able to stand another night of waiting.

She made her way back to the room, but stopped just outside the door when she heard voices coming from inside. Gina was talking to someone whose voice sounded vaguely familiar. She recognised it a moment later as Jackie's. _Finally decided to show up did you, bitch? _

But the bitter thought vanished immediately when she heard another voice, so soft that she wondered for a second if she might've been hearing things. Naomi. She was awake. Emily's heart leapt into her throat and her damn knees nearly gave in again at the sound. She forced herself not to rush into the room and risk crowding the blonde too much – her family was probably all she wanted to see right now.

"…so fucking worried about you," Gina was saying tearfully. "Don't you ever do something like that again, you hear me?" She planted what sounded like a very sloppy kiss on her daughter's face.

"Fuck's sake, mum. I'm okay now, aren't I?" Naomi asked, her voice hoarse and raspy.

"She's right, babe. You gave us a proper scare. Dropped everything at work as soon as I got the call and haven't left this room since, you know that? Christ, my back's never gonna be the same after sitting in these shitty little chairs all night."

"Well, sorry for getting _stabbed_, Jackie. But then I s'pse that's nothing compared to the pain you had to go through in those chairs."

Jackie snorted.

"So I'm guessing these flowers are from you, then?" Naomi said croakily.

"What? Oh, uh...these. Course they're from me, Nai, who else?"

"They're beautiful..."

"Aren't they? Took me fucking forever to decide which ones I should get. Thought you'd really like these. They're…er…begonias, I think the woman at the shop said."

Emily bit down so hard on her bottom lip that she tasted blood.

Naomi gave a faint chuckle.

"What?"

"They're not begonias, you dolt. They're...lilies. And you realise this is the first time you've ever given me flowers? If I'd known before that all it took was me getting stabbed for you to start showing your romantic side…"

"Fuck you. If that's what you're gonna be like then I take them back."

"Hey, no! They're mine now. You know, I woke up and I saw these and I actually thought they were from…well…fuck it, it doesn't matter I guess. Point is, now you know you really need to start working on your wooing skills, don't you? But I guess you do get points for staying all night to be with me. I'm…sorry if I scared you."

"Don't be stupid, babe. I love you. Of course I had to stay. And yeah, you did scare the fucking shit out of me, alright? So next time you decide to run off and play heroes, think about what I'd do if I lost you, okay?"

Emily closed her eyes bitterly as Jackie leaned down to drop a kiss onto Naomi's lips. It wasn't her place to burst in there and tell Naomi that every word coming out of her girlfriend's mouth was a lie. What good would it do? The only thing that mattered now was that Naomi was awake. She was okay. She seemed relaxed, happy. Because Jackie was there.

It didn't matter that _Emily _was the one who hadn't left Naomi's bedside for two days, holding her hand and talking to her, wiping the sweat from her forehead and waiting for her to open her eyes. That Emily was the one who'd bought those flowers. It didn't matter that she was the one who'd bitten her nails into a disgusting bloody mess that first, horrible night when everything had been hanging by a thread and Naomi's girlfriend hadn't even bothered to show up.

What did matter was that Emily _wasn't _the person Naomi wanted to see most when she opened her eyes. Of course she wasn't. Jackie was her _girlfriend_. Emily was just a random friend who'd been there for Naomi when Jackie wasn't.

But now Jackie _was _here, tall and beautiful and impeccably dressed, making Naomi laugh and smile through her pain and Emily was outside in the corridor, still wearing yesterday's crumpled clothes, her face puffy and exhausted, wondering why the hell she felt like crying. Well, she'd leave them to it now. She knew that Naomi was safe, and that's all she'd wanted, wasn't it? The only reason why she'd stayed for so long. Now all she had to do was get past that door without being spotted because she was a mess and she looked like shit and she really didn't want Naomi to see her like this.

She waited until their voices picked up again and she was satisfied that Naomi's eyes were fixed on Jackie and not the open doorway. There was another kiss, and Emily chose that moment to creep quietly past but she couldn't resist a last parting glance at Naomi. Just to make sure she really _was _okay. She froze in her tracks, felt something flutter in her stomach when blue eyes suddenly moved to look straight at her over Jackie's shoulder.

"Emily…?"

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**So she survived! Who saw that one coming eh? =T  
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**Anyway I'm off now to go babysit the little brat next door (just kiddin' he's adorable i wuv him) so thanks heaps for reading as usual :D Reviews would be awesome *begs shamelessly etc etc* **


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hey well here's another update for all you lovely people :) I know it's far from perfect but I figured I was taking too long to write it and the longer I spent the more sick of it I was getting so...here ya go hope it's ok *nervous grin* **

**Oh and can I just say...I'm a _little _bit scared of you lot after all those death threats against Jackie last chapter. Remember kids, violence is _never _the answer! Unless mandehhh's the problem. She's diff'rent**.  
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_Oh fucking hell, _Emily thought as both Gina and Jackie spun around to look at her. She took a deep breath and plastered a smile onto her face.

"Naoms, hey. How're you feeling?"

_Like she just got stabbed and poisoned, you twat. _Naomi's skin still looked unnaturally pale and blue eyes that were normally bright and attentive were dull, unfocussed. Emily wondered how many drugs were pumping through the blonde's system right now.

"Been better," Naomi said faintly, managing a small smirk. The action was so endearingly familiar that Emily smiled – a real one this time. She stopped quickly when she noticed Jackie glaring at her with something that looked a lot like hatred.

_Well it's not exactly like I'm _gagging _to be your friend either, you lying cow. _

"Good of you to come by and see me on my deathbed, Ems," Naomi said cheerfully, oblivious to the death stare match going on. "You just get here?"

Jackie tilted her head in a clear challenge at Emily, but it was Gina's reaction that was puzzling. The woman's face had turned white and she nodded almost imperceptibly, a pleading look in her eye.

"Uh…yeah, I did. I was…um... looking after Katie at home so I didn't come to see you earlier. Sorry."

Naomi shrugged, then winced as the action tugged at her wound. "She alright then? Katie fucking Fitch?"

"She's fine. Doing great, actually. But what about you, Naoms? Has the doctor been to see you yet?" Emily asked, brow furrowed in concern.

"Yeah, came in just before. He said I was recovering well, doing better than he'd expected. Which I took to mean that it's okay for me to go home soon but they still need to keep me here for 'observation', apparently. Wankers." She rolled her eyes – another gesture that was just so Naomi it caused a smile to tug at Emily's lips again– but the blonde's voice seemed kind of…off, like there was something she wasn't saying.

Gina filled in the gaps, her voice tiny. "They ran some tests and found a blood clot. In her brain." Naomi was scowling again. "Apparently it's too dangerous to try and get rid of it by surgery but… they're hopeful it'll just disperse by itself eventually, like a big bruise." She sounded skeptical.

_A blood clot. Jesus…what next?_

"How long will that take?" Emily asked, ignoring Naomi's exaggerated sigh.

"No more than a week, they say. But…what the doctor's worried about is that if it spreads any more it could block off part of the circulation to her brain. You know…a stroke." Gina squeezed Naomi's hand, her eyes full of tears again. "He said that even the slightest increase in blood pressure right now could cause that to happen, so he suggested we keep her under sedation just to make sure her heart rate stays level or whatever but-"

"Like fuck I'm letting anyone sedate me."

"Yeah babe, I know." Jackie stroked her hair soothingly. "Which is why _everyone _is making sure your blood pressure stays good and steady, alright? And no one's allowed to do anything that's gonna…what was it the doctor said?" she looked pointedly at Naomi's mum.

"Trigger any kind of strong emotional response," Gina said, smiling at her daughter but Emily could see the flash of resentment in her eyes. It made sense now. Gina really hadn't seemed like the sort of person who'd just sit back and take the crap Jackie had been spouting, but if the alternative had been to risk Naomi having a stroke on top of everything else her body was going through, then really there hadn't been a choice.

And wasn't Jackie just loving it.

It bothered Emily how smoothly the lies had just rolled right off the brunette's tongue, like she did it all the time. She wondered how many of Jackie's lies Naomi had swallowed since they'd been together. Naomi was a cop. Surely a part of her had to just _know_, every single time Jackie played her like a fish on a line, dragged her around and treated her like a gullible child. Emily thought she'd caught a glimpse of how sick and tired Naomi was of it, the night of Effy's party when the blonde had had a bit too much to drink. She wondered why they were still together. Maybe because even though being forced to fill her father's shoes in the competitive corporate world had changed Jackie from the girl Naomi had been all 'butterflies and moonbeams' about into this lying manipulative bitch, the detective had never stopped seeing her as the girl she'd fallen in love with in a jewellery store five years ago. How else could someone as strong and independent as Naomi was just yield to Jackie, without question, every single time_?_ Perhaps turning a blind eye was something you just…_did…_when you loved someone long enough.

Emily wouldn't know.

But _Christ, _Naomi deserved so much better, so much _more_. Jackie was a fucking idiot for not seeing it, because Naomi wasn't going to wait around for her forever. Something was going to have to give. _Maybe they'll break up. _She wondered why the thought made her want to smile. Fuck, was she so scarred by what had happened in her own messed up life that she didn't want _other _people's relationships to work out either? _Shit. That's fucked up. I don't want that...do I? But then why...?_

"Emily. Ems!" Naomi's voice snapped her out of her reverie.

"S-sorry. What?"

"I said, you look like crap. What'd you do, sleep upside down last night?"

"Pft, well that would involve me actually _getting _sleep last night at all, Campbell. Which, for your information, I didn't." Emily said, annoyed. "And besides, you're not looking so sexy yourself."

"I just woke up from a _coma. _Personal appearance kinda wasn't a priority. What's your excuse?"

Was she _trying _to piss Emily off? Because that smug look on her face was doing a pretty good job of it.

_My excuse? Maybe I stayed up all night holding _someone's_ hand and freaking the hell out that they were going to fucking _die _on me_. _Tosser._

Jackie was glaring daggers at Emily, as if she knew exactly what was hovering on the tip of her tongue. Emily was half-tempted to tell Naomi the truth anyway, but the brunette looked like she was readying herself for a fight and a screaming match across her hospital bed was probably the last thing Naomi and her _blood clot_ needed right now.

"I told you, I was up all night with Katie," she snapped. "She was kidnapped by a serial killer, in case you forgot." Emily regretted the remark instantly as Naomi's whole face blanched.

"Sorry," she muttered after a beat of silence. "That was a fucking stupid thing to say."

"Right."

There was quiet in the room for a moment, apart from the incessant beeping of the machines.

"Does it…hurt?"

"Nah, it feels great. Jesus, Ems. What the fuck do you _think?_"

_Okay, maybe I deserved that one. _

Gina burst into tears.

"_Fuck's sake_, mum."

There was a light tap at the door, and the doctor from yesterday entered with two nurses.

"Hello again, ladies. Ah Naomi, glad to see you're still awake and…uh…smiling. We're just going to change your bandages now and check that the injury's healing properly, okay? Um…maybe it's best if…" He smiled at the three of them huddled around Naomi's bed.

"We'll just be outside, love," Gina said softly, giving Naomi's leg a squeeze.

They traipsed out into the corridor, avoiding eye contact with each other and listening as the nurses chatted to Naomi while the doctor changed and cleaned her injury.

They all jumped when Naomi gave a sudden cry of pain, the sound jarringly loud in the quiet of the hallway.

"The fuck do they think they're doing to her in there?" Jackie spat, her fists clenching when Naomi grunted again. Emily closed her eyes. Dug her nails into her palms and tried not to think about the kind of agony that could be drawing those noises from the blonde.

After what felt like ages the doctor emerged, no longer smiling.

"I'm afraid there was a bit of a complication with the stitches," he explained vaguely as three pairs of worried eyes bore into him and pinned him to the wall. "She's okay – I've cleaned and bandaged the wound again and there shouldn't be any further problems there, but we've had to give her some pretty strong painkillers just for now. She'll be a bit drowsy because of that but you can still go in and see her if you like. Probably best if you let her rest and come back tomorrow, though."

He wouldn't give them any more details, just nodded once and hurried away before they could hit him with the barrage of questions he probably knew was coming.

_What the fuck does he mean by 'complication'? _Had the toxin somehow eaten through the stitches? Maybe the wound had opened up and started bleeding again, become infected. Emily felt sick just thinking about it, but she tightened her jaw against the nausea and followed Gina and Jackie back into the room.

Naomi looked, if possible, even more tired and ragged than she had before. There were teeth marks on her bottom lip from the force with which she'd been biting on it to keep from crying out, and her eyes were wet, tears quivering on the ends of long lashes. Emily almost reached out then, just by habit, to brush them away and smooth blonde hair off Naomi's sweaty forehead. Her hand was halfway there when she remembered it wasn't her job to do anymore.

Jackie made a sympathetic clucking noise with her tongue and pressed a kiss to Naomi's damp hair, stroking her cheek softly with her thumb. The blonde hardly seemed to register it. Her eyes were becoming glassy with the painkillers but she seemed determined to keep them open, struggling to maintain their focus on something.

_On me, _Emily realised suddenly.

Naomi's gaze hadn't left her face since they'd come back into the room. The chapped white lips were moving silently, trying to form words that were refusing to make themselves audible. Emily found that she didn't need to hear them.

"Shhh it's okay, Naoms. Just sleep now, yeah? We'll come back to see you tomorrow." She gave Naomi's hand a gentle squeeze, letting go quickly when Jackie shot her another look.

_What the fuck is this chick's problem? _

She soon found out - the second they were out of the room the brunette turned on her, looking furious but somehow intensely vulnerable at the same time.

"What the fuck do you want?" Jackie asked, her voice deadly quiet.

"What?"

"Don't fucking pretend. You didn't leave her side all night. You've been crying, and I know it was you who got her the flowers. You fucking like her, don't you?"

Emily's jaw dropped. "_What?_ You think I want to…me and _Naomi_?" No. Jackie, just…no." It was so ridiculous, what Jackie was implying, that if she hadn't been so exhausted with it all Emily would've laughed in her face. She couldn't believe Naomi's beautiful, assertive girlfriend felt threatened by _her._ Little Emily Fitch, with the battered heart and the blatant relationship phobia. It was so bizarre, so surreal, she wondered if maybe she'd fallen asleep and this was all just some weirdass dream.

"Don't fucking lie," Jackie said. "I saw the way you were looking at each other before. You can't tell me you're not-"

"Jackie. We're _friends. _There's nothing going on between us. Seriously. I don't know what the hell gave you the idea, but I am not, in any way shape or form, interested in starting _anything_ with Naomi, alright? I stayed last night because she almost got herself_ killed _saving my idiot sister. I felt guilty - that's all. I would've done the same if it had been Cook, or any other cop, lying in there. And Jackie, even if I _was _looking for someone right now – which I'm really not, believe me - it wouldn't…you know…be with a girl. I've never thought about it before and I'm seriously not about to start now, alright? So you really have nothing to fucking worry about from me." She tried to push past Jackie but stopped in her tracks when she saw that the brunette's eyes had filled with tears.

_Fucking hell. _

"Look," Jackie said almost pleadingly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I…I'm sorry for acting like such a bitch. But I'm just terrified, okay? I keep getting the feeling that her heart's not…_there…_anymore, whenever we're together. Like something's pulling her away and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I know it's mostly my fault, with my job and everything and…you're right. I wasn't there for her last night, just like every other time. I shouldn't have lashed out at you, but…if you had a gorgeous, amazing girlfriend like Naomi and you felt like she was slipping away from you, you'd be going fucking crazy too, wouldn't you? Doing everything you could to hold on?"

"No I wouldn't," Emily said icily. "Because anyone lucky enough to have Naomi as their girlfriend would've been holding onto her for dear life _before _she started slipping away. You might want to think about that next time you're at some _function _and she's lying in a coma in the fucking hospital."

"That wasn't my-"

"That's enough," Gina said sharply, speaking up at last. She still looked tired and drained, but she was glaring at Jackie with a dangerous glint in her eye. "Jackie, I don't care how fucking busy you are but my daughter doesn't deserve to be tossed aside and treated like crap the way you've been doing. If you lie to her again I'm gonna ask you to piss right the fuck off out of her life, alright? I don't care if she never speaks to me again. I love her too much to see her get hurt so I really fucking hope you don't give me a reason to expose all the lies you told today." Jackie nodded meekly. "Now I think we should all go home and get some rest. It's been a pretty long day." She chuckled wearily and turned to face Emily. "Em - thank you. For everything. Seriously, I..."

Emily shook her head and gave her a small smile. "It's okay, Gina. It was nothing."

Her body felt impossibly heavy with exhaustion but when she got home and finally, finally collapsed onto her bed, there was something nagging at the back of her mind, refusing to let her sleep.

_Me and Naomi. _

Was it really as crazy as she thought? The answer was a definitive _yes. _Naomi was a girl, for fuck's sake. And even if Emily wasn't straight, what would Naomi possibly see in _her_? Jackie was completely insane.

But as she slipped into that twilight zone between awake and asleep, another thought crept into her head.

_We _would _make a pretty fucking hot couple. _

She fell asleep with a grin on her face.

* * *

_A tunnel. Dark, grimy. Her face and hands are sweating like mad, the hairs on the back of her neck standing straight up. She's terrified, but she forces herself to keep running after the man. The man is a monster. He kills people. Tortures them. Destroys lives. But that's not why she's chasing him like her own life depends on it now. She's going to catch him if it kills her because she made a promise to someone she loves. She can't remember the person's face. Only that looking at that face makes her want to promise them the sky, and everything under it. Every single time. But why can't she remember the face, or even a name…? She's catching up to the man now. Maybe then she'll remember. She grabs his arm. He turns, and there's a flash of silver, and then pain. Her abdomen is on fire with it. The ground is getting slippery with blood. The world is turning grey. She has to remember. If it's the last thing she does, she has to remember. She looks down. Sees the colour of the blood. _

"Emily."

Naomi opened her eyes and waited for them to focus. Everything was blinding white. For the second time in as many days she wondered if she'd died and this was heaven. If it was, then heaven hurt like a bitch.

"You're awake."

She turned her head to the side and saw Jackie watching her, those big green eyes rimmed with red.

"Hey," Naomi croaked. She reached a hand out and Jackie took it, gripping it so hard it hurt.

"How're you feeling?"

"Okay. Still hurts a bit though." She winced as a bolt of pain shot through her wound. Jackie brushed a stray piece of out of her eyes.

"You want anything?"

"Water would be awesome right about now."

Jackie poured her a glass from the jug on the bedside table. Her jaw tightened when her hand brushed against the flowers, but she didn't say anything. Naomi gulped the water down noisily and Jackie watched her, an undiscernible expression on her face.

"I love you, Nai."

Naomi closed her eyes. "I know."

"You said her name. When you woke up," Jackie whispered, her voice thick with tears.

"What? I…it was just a nightmare, J."

"So she's the first person you think of when you wake up scared. Not me."

"Jackie," Naomi said warningly.

"And it was the same thing yesterday. When you woke up. That look on your face...I know it wasn't me you wanted to see sitting there."

"No. You just weren't the one I was _expecting _to see." She smiled sadly at the shocked expression on Jackie's face. "Yeah, I know you were lying, J. I know you weren't the one who stayed. And I know the flowers weren't from you. It was Emily. All Emily. I gave you so many chances to tell the truth but you just kept lying to me."

"That's only because-"

"And then I can't believe you went and accused her of...all that.

"You...you heard us?"

"Yeah, I heard. What the hell were you thinking, Jackie?" She struggled into a sitting position, ignoring the protests from her lower abdomen.

"I...I don't know. I was scared, okay? Nai, things haven't been right between us for ages, you know that. I feel like I'm losing you. I've felt it for a while now. That night at Effy's party...I saw you two together, in the garden. I tried so fucking hard to pretend like it was nothing, but..._christ, _Naomi, the way you were looking at her! I just thought...if I talked to Emily, then maybe-"

"Yeah? Whatever you hoped to achieve from that I hope you're satisfied now. You embarassed the crap out of her and found out you were so compeletely off base I don't even...she's not fucking interested in me, okay? So stop with all the crazy ideas. _There's nothing between us_. I think she made that pretty fucking clear." _To both of us. _Hearing those words come from Emily's mouth, it had felt like a bucket of ice water dumped right over Naomi's heart, extinguishing in an instant whatever pathetic hope had been burning there. _Serves you right, Naomi. You should've fucking known better. _The tears were in her eyes before she could stop them.

Jackie noticed. She laughed mirthlessly, her eyes like chips of cold stone. "But _you_ like her."

"No."

Jackie grabbed her bag. "Try again, Naomi. And this time, at least make it _seem _like you fucking mean it."

"Jackie, _please_. Don't-"

"Yeah? Well look at me now and tell me you don't fucking like her. That you've never thought, even _once_, of throwing away what we've had for _five fucking years _to be with her."

Naomi closed her eyes, terrified that they were going to betray her. There was a denial waiting on the tip of her tongue. She could lie, and everything would go back to the way it had been before she'd fucked everything up. Whatever this _thing _was that she had for Emily, it would go away. The butterflies, the sweaty palms, the quickened heartbeats - just a small, harmless crush on a friend, right? Nothing more frightening than that. And since it was clear that Emily couldn't ever feel the same way, these ... _feelings _...would fade of course and there would be a time when she could look at Emily - at that soft red hair, the pouty lips and those impossibly expressive eyes - and not feel like her heart was trying to beat its way out of her chest like it did every time she even thought of the redhead. She couldn't even remember when things had gotten so fucking intense. She only knew that it had to _stop. _Before it became something more, and she fell into something she couldn't ever recover from because it definitely felt like that was where was was heading now.

"Great. That's just fucking great, Naomi. One simple question, and you couldn't even..." Jackie got up abruptly and shook her head, disgusted. "Sort this out Naomi. I don't care what you do. Just...I'm not fucking hanging around while you make up your mind. If you like her, at least have the fucking balls to _tell _me."

Naomi opened her mouth - to apologise, to beg, to argue, she honestly didn't know. But then she caught sight of an all too familiar flash of red in the doorway and her mind went completely blank, her heart leaping into her throat.

_Shit.__  
_

* * *

**Gee, they really should stop having these plot-advancing conversations in the hospital shouldn't they? and whew this chapter gave me waay more trouble than i'd expected so sorry if it's a bit disappointin' but i was gonna go crazy if i had to read through it one more time lol.  
**

**anyway thanks heaps for reading as usual! :D Youknowwhattodo *bats eyes***


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